


Consequences

by TheLittlestAngel



Series: ‘Consequences’ AU [1]
Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: A Bit of Fluff, Angst, M/M, Past!Tord, Red Army, Red Leader, Slow Burn, i have no idea what i'm doing T-T
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-07-02 21:18:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 30,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15804753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittlestAngel/pseuds/TheLittlestAngel
Summary: While Tord doesn’t quite have the world in the palm of his hands, he’s getting closer. At least, he was. Then his €600,000,000 Giant Robot™ exploded. Now, with the help of a few ‘Old Friends,’ Tord’s attempting to build a time machine to prevent The End from happening.There’s just one problem.Aforementioned time machine breaks, landing Tord, and, by an unfortunate stroke of luck, Tom, over three years too far back in time. Things can’t get any worse.Actually, they can.Tord and Tom are...forcefully...recruited by the Red Army, run by the Red Leader - who happens to be Tord himself. And not only that, because apparently Karma hates him, he’s falling in love with his worst enemy. Tom.Tord wanted to rule the world, but he didn’t think it would be this hard.





	1. Why Edd, Tom, and Matt are idiots

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is currently my main fic, so this updates more than my other stories. My email is elissatroy@gmail.com if you want updates directly after I write them, as I often have trouble uploading due to my overprotective parents. There is currently no update schedule for this, sorry.
> 
> Well, now you’re here, all you can do is hang on and enjoy the ride!

“Tom?” 

I turn around to glare at whoever disturbed me, relaxing slightly when I take in a familiar mess of brown hair and a baggy green hoodie. Edd. 

“Tom,” He continues, “Matt’s been texting your phone nonstop. Should you go answer it?” I can hear him implying something. Probably that he wants me to answer the phone. Deciding to do the logical thing, I ignore him and reach for the TV remote, pretending I don’t see Edd’s exasperated face. Just when I’ve gotten my hands on it, however, said phone starts ringing. 

Wincing slightly at the blaringly loud sound, my slightly hungover brain still refusing to process anything louder than a whisper, I heave myself off of Edd’s couch, where I’ve been lounging for the last half hour. (I’d have stayed longer if not for the bloody phone.) Edd raises his eyebrows, obviously surprised I got my ass off of his couch, and points into his kitchen, where I assume I left my phone. 

Matt’s shrill voice grates against my ears once I pick up my phone.

“Tom!” He starts, hysteria evident in his girly voice. “Tom, there’s a strange man outside who has absolutely no fashion sense holding a gun who’s been standing outside my door for the last five minutes and he won’t go away and I tried to text you and Edd-” I cut off his monologue, fear beginning to bubble up in my stomach.

“Matt, what the hell are you talking about? Who’s outside your door?” I respond, trying to keep my voice calm. Edd moves next to me, a question in his eyes, but I turn away.

“I don’t know but HE HAS A GUN!” Wails Matt through the phone, and I cringe. Seeing my discomfort, Edd grabs the phone.

“Hold on, we’ll be right over,” He says, and quickly hangs up. “What was that about?” 

“Matt says there’s a guy with a gun outside his apartment who’s been knocking on his door.” I immediately want to take back my words, as Edd inhales sharply, furrowing his brow.

“Tom, we have to rescue him!” 

I roll my eyes. Sockets. Whatever. “You can rescue him. He’s your boyfriend~,” My words are met with a punch in the arm. 

“Matt and I are straight. Now shut up and let’s go.” Edd drags me through his apartment into the hall. 

Once in the hall connecting all the apartments, I see why Matt was worried. The man is wearing a stained white tank top, has wild, matted hair, and yes, is holding a pistol in his left hand. I shiver, imagining that gun pointed at me, instead of held slack. As if that’s not bad enough, though, he’s injured.

Whatever happened to the strange man was bad. Worse than bad. His right arm, and the side of his face are...well, the only word is horrific. His right arm is completely limp at his side, and covered in deep slashes, some of which ooze blood, and the ones that must be the deepest have scraps of bandages wrapped around them. Almost all of the skin on his arm, neck, and what’s visible of his head is burnt and red, some of the flesh is peeling, and judging by the slightly lopsided way he stands, his leg and side are just as hurt. 

I cringe at the sight, and Edd yelps from next to me. I sush him, but the man turns slightly. ‘Damnit,’ I think, wincing. I would have preferred to have figured out what he wants, and better yet, how he made it into a private apartment complex, but it’s too late now.

“Excuse me?” His voice is soft, with the barest hint of an accent decidedly not British. German, perhaps. For a moment I consider Norwegian, and shiver as I picture silver eyes staring into my soul. I have to remind myself Tord died before I can get my suddenly spiking heartbeat under control, before I launch myself at him, before I wrap my fingers around his burnt neck, before I murder the poor guy. “Excuse me, I’m staying in an apartment with a few friends next door. Sadly, I got in an accident that ended up with us going broke, and I was wondering if you could spare some bandages and painkillers-” He turns the rest of the way to face us, and freezes.

One moment I’m lunging forward at those silver-grey eyes, and the next moment Edd has a hold on my hoodie sleeve, his eyes wide. 

“Oh god...What happened to you?” Asks Edd, surprisingly pale. Almost as pale as Tord’s-no, not Tord’s face. God, what’s wrong with me? The man probably has no idea who I am, although he did stop at the sight of us. Probably the damn black eyes. Sockets. Whatever.

“I got in a fight with a few...friends.” He replies. I bite my tongue so I don’t say ‘I’m not your friend,’ reminding myself that it’s not Tord. Those eyes though…

“Well, don’t worry about it. I’ll tell Matt to come out.” Edd reddens slightly, realizing how that sounded, and I can’t suppress a smile from creeping onto my face. “Not like that,” He snaps in my ear, and I chuckle. Edd looks back at the stranger, who has a strange expression on his face, somewhere between amusement and terror. “Listen - sorry our friend didn’t let you in. We had some trouble with a friend a few weeks ago, and Matt’s been jumpy ever since.” For some reason I want to stop Edd from speaking, I want to run away from the man, and yet I want to stay exactly where I am. Safe, for now. “If you like you can come into my place and we’ll bandage you up.”

“No, I wouldn’t want to bother you,” Says the man, his gaze now fixed on the ground. “I don’t want to keep you, and I have to go.” It’s a lame excuse, and I smirk, watching as he hurries off, walking towards the door at the beginning of the hall. Poor guy doesn’t know what he’s got himself into, putting Edd the Mom into the equation. RIP unknown-man-with-Tord’s-eyes.

“No, I don’t think so.” Edd lets go of my hoodie and dashes in front of the stranger. “You said you’re broke. You obviously don’t have the money to afford bandages-” Edd gestures to the scraps of cloth around his arm, “-And looking at those burns, you haven’t even cleaned your arm. You’re going to get infected, if you aren’t already.”

“I’ve been hurt before.” The man sounds irked, surprisingly enough. “I know how to take care of myself.” 

“Have you ever been burnt as bad as you are now?” Retorts Edd, just as irritated.

“Let me see…” The man narrows his eyes. Well, sort of. The right half of his face doesn’t seem to move much. Whatever happened to him must of ruined his facial muscles. “I’ve been shot. Twice. I’ve fallen out of an airplane. I was in said airplane when it blew up. I was bitten by a zombie.” He pauses. “Still not sure how I survived that…” At the mention of the undead, I narrow my eyes. Tord was bitten by a zombie. Of course, half of the UK got the apocalypse, so this man being bitten shouldn’t surprize me. “I fell about fifty feet into a pit, then had someone land on top of me. I was almost gutted by a friend’s rottweiler. So yes, I’ve been hurt badly.”

“But not like this, and never without being tended to, I bet,” Snaps Edd. “Tom, go on down to the store and get some more bandages. And some aspirin. This guy’s giving me a headache.”

“Nah,” I say, raising my eyebrows. “This is more entertaining. Besides, someone’s gotta go get Matt.” Something Edd said strikes me as odd, and I turn to the stranger. “You never told us your name.”

“Pat,” Says the man, after a brief pause. His accent strengthens slightly.

“Well, Pat, I’m Edd, this is Tom, and the man hiding in his room thinking you’re a conscripter is Matt.” I nod at Pat as Edd says my name.

“Conscripter? Oh - right, sorry about the gun. Although, now that I think about it, if you’d like to join my army...” His eyes - well, his left eye, as his right eye seems to be partially blind, from the way it doesn’t focus - brighten. 

“Been there, done that,” I say, smiling a little. “It...was interesting.”

“Heh, I tried...Well, sorry I brought the pistol. At least I didn’t bring the AK-47, ja?” Pat returns my smile with a lopsided grin.

“You have a Soviet assault rifle in your room,” Says Edd. It’s not a question. 

“Yes, I do, You know your guns.” 

Something Pat said makes me hesitate, and I glance at Edd. He nods slightly, catching my eye

“Where are you from, anyways? Not very many Brits say ‘ja’,” Asks the brunette, and I return his nod.

“Norway,” Replies Pat. His voice sounds slightly strained, as though he forced out the word. Norway would explain the accent, and - oh. Norway. I’m an idiot. I would laugh, if I wasn’t two seconds away from shaking Pat as hard as I can to find if he knows Tord. I move forward to intercept him, but Edd reads my mind, grabbing my arm.

“Tom, Pat’s hurt. We’ll take care of him, and than you can question him about - you know.” Murmurs Edd. I nod, slightly put off by Edd’s refusal to say Tord’s name. “Alright than,” Edd continues, addressing Pat in a louder voice, “Matt will come over eventually.” Edd wrinkles his nose. “I hope. Anyways, Pat, why don’t you c’mon over to my place, and we’ll clean you up?”

“Ok…?” Says Pat, phrasing it like a question. I don’t blame him; when Edd’s in ‘Mom Mode’, it’s difficult to get him to snap out, and in the meantime he suffocates everyone around him. It’s funny when you’re not the one being suffocated.

“Wonderful,” Replies Edd, bustling off. As Pat follows, I notice my earlier guess was correct - from the stiff way he follows Edd, his leg and side must have gotten burnt as well. I pity him, whatever happened must have traumatized him. For a moment, I wonder who did this to him, and I promise myself when I find them, I will make them pay.


	2. Tom blew up some expensive equipment

Pat sits on the edge of the Edd’s bathtub, the latter leaning over Pat. I cringe slightly upon seeing the small army of bandages and…

“Edd?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

“Tom, I'm busy.” Edd doesn't look up as he opens a first-aid kit.

“Edd, what are you doing with my alcohol?” My hand waves at the silver canteen among the bandages.

“We have to clean out his cuts somehow, don't we?”

I nod, a smile tugging at my lips as Pat yelps, jolting away from Edd.

“You aren't putting that on my arm!” 

“Yes we are,” Retorts Edd, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “You didn’t take the time to call a doctor - ” 

“Six - hundred - million - Euros.” There’s an almost dead look in Pat’s eyes as he responds.

“The hell are you talking about?” I ask, butting my way into the conversation.

“The amount of money we lost. In The End - the fight.”

I inhale, and Edd practically topples off of the bathtub. God. If I had lost that much money...I can’t even imagine what happened. I’m so shocked I hardly notice the stutter, but it’s there.

“The End, huh?” An accusatory tone spills into my voice. “What’s that?”

 

“Oh, just a nickname my friends and I came up with for the fight I told you about.” Pat cringes slightly. “It was...bad.”

“No sh-!” I start, though Edd cuts me off with a glare. “Um, no kidding.”

“So yeah, we can’t pay for food, let alone a trip to the E.R.” Finishes Pat, bringing us back on topic.

I look at Pat doubtfully. “Who’s ‘we’?”

“The friends I told you about.” Pat shrugs. “Didn’t you say you were going to get your friend, anyways?”

“No,” I reply blatantly ignoring the plea for me to leave.

“You did,” Retorts Pat, a glare on his mangled face. “You said, and I quote, ‘This is more entertaining. Besides, someone’s gotta go get Matt.’”

“You did,” Adds Edd, throwing a roll of bandages at me, which I easily catch. It’s not that difficult a catch, but Pat whistles.

“Nice reflexes. Now go.” He makes a shooing motion out the door, and I shake my head, letting that easy grin slip back onto my face. It’s strange. Usually I have to force a smile, but with Pat, I feel...loose. Almost happy.

“Tom.” Pat takes a deep breath. “Do you really want to witness an entire canteen of -” He picks up the flask, opens it, and sniffs it, cringing slightly, “ - Smirnoff poured on a shit ton of cuts and burns that have been open for three weeks?”

“Fair point,” I say, turning around and walking through Edd’s apartment into the hall.

I hesitate for a moment. Do I want to involve Matt, the little cinnamon roll? We just invited a strange man into Edd’s house, offered to help him out. We don’t even know anything about him, save his first name. I don’t even know his first name! All I know is that he’s staying with his friends, so he probably doesn’t have a house of his own, which isn’t a selling point, that he got in a fight that cost him millions of Euros, (Gambling, perhaps?) and he’s from Norway. Actually, now that I think about it, he mentioned an army. When he said it, I thought he was talking about the Armed Forces, but his exact words were ‘If you’d like to join my army…’ MY army. It’s that, that one line, that convinces me not to bring Matt into this, but by that moment, I’m already knocking on Matt’s door.

An anxious face peers out, some of the tension leaving at the sight of my face. “Tim!”

“Tom,” I mutter, but it’s hopeless trying to correct the ginger.

“Where’d the other guy go? He was kinda scary! Besides, he had a gun! Did you know that? He had a gun!”

I chuckle. While overwhelming, Matt’s energy rubbed off of everyone, even Tord. 

“Yes, Matt, I know. His name’s Pat, and he’s okay. He’s...nice.” I’m shocked at myself the words the moment they're out of my mouth. I don’t call people nice. People AREN’T nice. The only person I would have ever called nice was Tord, strange as it may sound. When he wasn’t snapping retorts to my equally snappy quips, he had a certain charm about him that I’ve only seen replicated in Pat. 

“Oh. Okay then!” Says Matt cheerily, bringing me back to the present. “Where is he?” His optimism is encouraging to my dilemma, and I make the decision to bring Matt over.

By the time I’ve reminded Matt where Edd’s apartment is, distract him from the ONE mirror in Edd’s ENTIRE apartment, stop him from chugging half a bottle of Smirnoff out of curiosity, and assure him that he isn’t going to get conscripted into whatever army Pat was talking about, Pat and Edd are sitting at the latter’s table. While Pat’s back is towards me, I can see he changed out of the grimy tank top, and into a grey T-Shirt. His arm, still limp, is wrapped in clean white bandages, as is what I can see of the side of his face. The now familiar easy smile appears back on my face. I blame Matt’s over-optimistic energy, but whatever the cause, it’s nice, letting myself relax enough to smile. 

“Hey guys,” I say, forcing the smile off of my face as Edd looks over at me. Pat doesn’t respond at first until Edd makes a little gesture in my direction, although he quickly shifts to look at me. “I got Matt.”

“Okay,” Replies Edd, amusement in his voice, and for a brief moment I wonder if he saw my smile. “Now we’re all here, you can ask Pat about -”

But for the first time, Matt sees all of Pat’s face. “Todd? What are you doing here?”


	3. Nobody loves Tord when he’s punching his soulmate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from Tord's POV. Just to be clear, unless I say otherwise, the rest of the book will be from the same POV.

It’s ironic, I suppose, that Edd and Thomas didn’t even recognize me, while the first thing Matt, the forgetful one, said to me was my name. Or what he thought it was, anyways. It was close enough to get me to stiffen involuntarily, close enough to put a surprised look on Edd’s face, close enough for Thomas to ask, as the remains of a smile drop off of his face,

“Matt, what ARE you talking about? This is Pat, remember?” I’m not sure if I should nod and agree with Thomas, or just tell him - and Edd, I suppose, - the truth, so I stay silent, taking the time to rearrange my features into a practiced ‘quizzical’ expression before Matt answers, voice raised in confusion.

“No, it’s Todd. The scary man who hurt me!” He walks up to me. “Look at his eyes.” At this, I decide to play the ‘innocent’ face. Matt has no real proof expect for my basic appearance. It’s one of the strange things about the human mind; if it doesn’t want to believe something, it won’t. Edd acted like Tord - me, I suppose - was dead, so they unconsciously ruled my existence out when they saw me, and besides, neither of them WANT me to be alive. I’ll have to play that up.

“Listen, Matt, right?” I don’t wait for an answer. “I don’t know who you’re talking about. It sounds like Tom here already told you my name, but in case you forgot,” I pause a moment to emphasize that, “I’m Pat.” I’ll be honest, Thomas surprised me. I wasn’t expecting to see him, and when he asked my name, I panicked and replied with the name of my best friend, Pat. As long as he doesn’t meet Tom and Edd, I should get away with my half-truth.

“No, it’s Todd!” Says Matt, not noticing Thomas mutter ‘Tord’ under his breath, apparently irritated by Matt’s forgetfulness. While the ginger’s stupidity was frustrating, it never angered me the same way it did Thomas. “Look, he has the same eyes, same build, same voice.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s Tord,” Retorts Thomas, but even Edd’s nodding slowly, the look on his face the same as the one when he first saw me with my Robot; somewhere between hatred, betrayal, and fear. It’s the fear that gets me, I hate it when people show unnecessary weakness. Prey. In the Army, we had been taught about ‘prey’ habits, like nail biting and flinching, and how to take advantage of it. Rather be the hunter than the prey. I’m a hunter, and it’s that predatory instinct that makes me lash out at Thomas without thinking twice.

“Ha! Classic stupid Tom. You really are ignorant, aren’t you?” The moment the words are out of my mouth, I want to take them back, but my game is up. I see the flash of recognition in Thomas’ eyes, followed by anger, and...an emotion resembling fear. The all-mighty Thomas is afraid, and of me, no less! It’s all I can do to hold back a taunt.

“...Tord?” Edd’s voice is hesitant, as though he doesn’t want to say anything. “Tord, if it’s you...why did you lie to us - TOM, NO!” Thomas lunges towards me, catching me off guard. Quite an accomplishment. Years of military training have improved my reflexes, but after the explosion, ‘The End’, as Pat jokes, I’m blind in one eye, and almost entirely deaf in the ear on the same side, not to mention the partial paralysis in my arm and leg. Even with my injuries hindering me, however, It’s not that hard to grab his arm, trip him down to the floor, and break his nose.

For a moment, adrenaline is shooting through my veins, and I’m powered by Thomas’ weakness, and then I’m back in the present, standing above Edd’s best friend with blood soaking the carpet. At the risk of sounding cliché, it’s quiet enough to hear a pin drop. At least, it is until Matt starts screaming.

Edd runs up beside me, Matt still testing to see if his voice can break glass, (I’m 90% certain a window cracked,) and Thomas curses under his breath as he sits up, trying to stem the flow of blood from his nose, as I stand there, breathing heavily. 

“Batt, I’b fide.” Says Thomas, thickly through the blood, and when Matt doesn’t stop screaming, Thomas adds, “Really,” Standing up. “Dow that we’ve proven I’b okay, cad we talk about Cobbie here?” Matt stops screaming so he can answer.

“Todd goes, of course. He hurt my beautiful face!” There’s an awkward pause. “And my best friend.”

When Thomas responds with “I’b dot your friedd,” There’s another pause, just as laden with emotions. Thomas and Edd probably realizing that’s what the former used to say to me, me cringing - prey, I remind myself - slightly at the memory of a harpoon, of smoke and heat and pain, and most of all, the crushing self-loathing of failure. Of knowing I failed. Of knowing I, the leader of an entire army, am a failure.

Thomas storms off to clean up, after giving me ‘the finger’, which I respond to by miming a gun at his head with my working arm. Part of me wishes he hadn’t left, because the atmosphere went from ‘chaotic’ to ‘awkward silence’ the moment he was out of the room. I like chaos. The Army base is a sort of organized chaos, easy to lose yourself in, while the battlefield is a different kind of chaos all together, - smoke, blood, screams - but it’s calming, in a way. The silence, though...there’s nothing to do, nowhere to run, no one to shoot. I want to strike up a cigar, just for something to do, and my hands wander down to my hoodie pocket, but then I remember I’m wearing Tom’s T-Shirt, the ‘asdf movie’ one. The one that smells like cheap beer from too many high school parties, are there aren't any pockets, and certainly no cigars. There’s nothing to do but wait here in the painful, thick silence, and wait for someone to speak. But when that someone, Edd, does speak, it’s certainly not what I want to hear.

“Tord, Tom’s right.”

I scoff, sitting back in the wooden chair where I had been in before Thomas and Matt walked in. “Well, there’s a first time for everything,” 

Edd isn’t amused. “Yes Tord, very funny,” He deadpans, shaking his head. “God, what happened to you? You used to actually be funny.”

“Losing millions of Euros will do that to you,” I say, letting my voice go equally flat. “Millions of Euros and being shot out of the sky.”

Recognition flashes across Edd’s face. Prey. In the Army, he’d be singled out for showing too much emotion. “Is that what happened, how you lost all that? The...robot?” There’s actually pity on his face. I don’t want his pity. I don’t NEED his pity. “Tord, you’re doing that look again.”

“What look?” I ask, wondering what emotion I wore that was deemed ‘inappropriate’ for the situation.

“That one where you look a bit like a shark. All dead and cold.”

Edd’s words sent chills down my spine. Is that what I look like, when I’m not trying to put on a mask of emotion? I don’t particularly like sharks, anyways. They kill out of hunger. Disgusting. 

Edd waits a moment without saying anything, and I realize he’s waiting for me to speak.

“Oh, sorry,” I say, slapping a ‘sheepish’ look on my face while chastising myself on my choice of words. What amazing speech skills, Tord. 

“...okay,” Says Edd, looking confused. Wow, Edd’s English is worse than my own, and English isn’t even my first language. Idiot. Then again, most, or should I say all, people are.

To my surprize, Matt speaks up. “Edd, I’m really not sure about Todd staying…” I mutter a quick ‘Tord’ under my breath, before realizing how much I sound like Thomas.

“That’s right,” Answers Edd, looking relieved at the conversation being turned back to something his admittedly small mind can handle. “I meant to say that Tom’s right. We need to figure out what we’re going to do with you.” He pauses, apparently trying to obsess the importance of his words. “I mean, I want you back. I really do. The thing is, you scared Matt pretty badly -” Matt nods enthusiastically, “- and the last time you tried to live with Tom he threw a couch through the roof and stormed off.”

“Touché,” I mutter, grinning faintly at the memory.

“Tord, it’s not really funny,” Says Edd, shaking his head. “Here’s the deal. If you want to stay with us, you can. I know you said you’re staying with friends, but if you need a place you can sleep -”

“- On the sofa.” I whirl around to look at Thomas, standing in the door, harpoon in his hand and a smirk on his face.


	4. Secrets don't exist when harpoons are involved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned: long chapter up ahead :D
> 
> Also, it's been brought to my attention that this book has a slight resemplance to the fanfiction WTPresent. Not my intent. While you should check out that story, it's here on AO3, this plotline is entirely my own. Thanks!
> 
> (AlsoTomCan'tCookInThisStory-)
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING FOR MENTION OF HITLER - I DON’T SUPPORT THE NAZIS OR WHAT THEY DID IN ANY WAY.

“Hi, Tim!” Says Matt, bubbly as ever. I’m less amused.

“Thomas, you were sleeping in my room. By default, if I show up, I get my room back.” I turn to Edd. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got a place.”

“Oh. Okay.” Edd looks down for a moment, before brightening up. “Hey, we're watching a movie tonight, wanna join us?” I chuckle, Edd’s enthusiasm rubbing off on me. 

“Sure thing, Edd,” I say. “I’ll make dinner if you want.”

Edd laughs. “Sounds good. Whatever you make has got to be better than Tom’s scrambled eggs and toast for every meal!”

I almost flinch. Prey. I’d forgotten about Thomas for a moment. 

“Go to hell,” Snaps the aforementioned man, glaring at me. Or at least I think he’s glaring; it can be hard to tell.

“I would’ve if your aim with that harpoon had been better,” I respond. Thomas freezes, and something in his face changes. He almost looks...guilty? Weak stupid prey, wearing his emotions on his sleeve. It’s only there for a moment, before his face returns to its usual placidness, but it was there. 

“You shot at me first, and you killed Jon.”

I shrug. “‘The victor will never be asked if he told the truth,’” I quip back at him. After my words there’s a tense silence.

“...did you just quote Adolf Hitler?” Asks Thomas, tightening his grip on the harpoon. I puse, thinking. I suppose I did. I hadn’t really considered it. The former Red Leader had loved quoting Hitler, and old habits break hard. Most of the men (and women) in the Army hadn’t minded, as they had trained under him as well, but I hadn’t considered how Edd and Thomas (Matt being too innocent to understand) would have taken to the old habit.

“Oh. I suppose I did.” I say, rearranging my features into a ‘what did I do’ expression. Edd seems to fall for it, although Thomas still looks disbelieving. He opens his mouth to say something, but I’m saved by my phone ringing. “Sorry, I’ve got to take this.” I put on an ‘apologetic’ face, and reach across the table to grab said phone, where it’s been sitting ever since Edd searched all of my pockets for weapons. 

“Hey boss,” Says Pau, his voice tinny through the phone’s speakers. “Pat and I found some more of those zombie things west of the base, we’ll be back late.”

I sigh. Pau has absolutely no tact. Or piloting skills. “Pau, you’re on speaker.” Thomas tries once again to say something, and Edd’s obviously confused, but I shake my head at them. 

“Sorry boss. Why ARE you on speaker, anyways?” Pau sounds just as confused as Edd looks.

“It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

I switch into Norwegian. “Your apartment’s like three doors down from Edd’s.”

“Oh. Wait, like used-to-be-your-friend Edd?” Asks Pau, also in Norwegian.

“First of all, I’m your boss, not your friend, it’s okay to act formal, second, I decided to ask the neighbors for some bandages. The neighbors were Matt, Edd, and Thomas. Simple.” 

“Y’know what, boss,? The zombies can wait. We’ll be right over.”

I shake my head, not wanting to explain where I know these ‘friends’ from to Edd and Thomas, but it’s too late. There’s a ‘click’ as Pau hangs up. I don’t have to fake my irritation.

“Damnit Pau,” I snap into the dead phone, unconsciously switching over to English. “I will rip out your heart and shove it up your lazy ass, run you over with a bus, shoot you, and murder your entire family!” There’s a very awkward pause, and Thomas coughs. “Oh. Was that in English?” Thomas nods.

“Commie, listen.”

“I’m listing, Jehovah,” I retort.

“You’re joining us for dinner, right?” He doesn’t wait for me to respond. “When you do, you can answer our questions for us. If I get the feeling you aren’t answering honestly, I’ll stab you, and Edd can call the cops. I can use the million Euros.

“What happens if I refuse?” I ask, already knowing the answer. Thomas doesn’t say anything, but mimes stabbing something with his harpoon while making a sickening ‘squelch’ sound. I nod, not wanting to be impaled, and take a step back.

“And you’ll stay here until dinner. I’ll cook. You’d probably poison us anyways.”

“Remember to bring jam for the toast!” Calls out Edd, grinning slightly.

\----------

I sit at Edd’s table for the second time in one day. Edd and Matt sit on either side of me, with the space across from me empty, save for basic silverware. I don’t wait long before Thomas steps into the room, holding a large bowl and bringing a nauseating smell with him. When he sets the bowl down, it’s not hard to see why. 

“Is that...burnt cereal?” Asks Edd, leaning over to give the plate a tentative sniff, then going slightly green. 

I look the plate over. “I think it’s burnt cereal, milk, and…” I trail off.

Matt prods the dish with a fork. “Tim, why’s there gravy with the cereal?” 

Thomas's face hardens into what I assume is a glare, it’s so hard to tell without him having eyes. “We let Commie in here for a reason, no?”

“Fire away,” I say snidely. “You want answers, right?”

“Yes.” States Edd, raising his eyebrows. “And you’re going to give them to us. I have the nearest Police station on speed dial.”

I shrug. “Go ahead and ask.” 

“One thing…” Says Thomas, standing up and walking into the kitchen, returning with a harpoon. “I promised.” 

For a moment, at the sight of the pale blue almost-spear, I’m back in that Robot, falling out of the sky, smoke burning my throat, and I can’t breath - and the next moment, I’m standing up, handgun in my good hand pointed at Thomas. 

“Woah, chill,” Yelps Thomas, ‘eyes’ wide. 

I realize I’m breathing heavily. “I can put a bullet through your head before you can throw that harpoon over here.” Someone puts a hand on my shoulder, and I whirl around, finger tightening on the trigger, but it’s just Edd. 

“Tord, calm down. We had a deal,” Says Edd soothingly, taking his hand off of my shoulder and stepping back, palms up. “Put the gun down.” 

Thomas sounds suspicious, although I can’t see his face, as he’s still behind me. “Speaking of guns, where’d you get that from?”

“It’s a cartoon. Don’t overthink it.” I respond curtly.

Thomas frowns. “It’s not really fair if you have a gun. It goes against the harpoon thing.” I take a deep breath, get my feelings - heh, feelings; what a joke - under control, and sit back down. Thomas walks around to the open seat, casually propping the harpoon against the table before sitting down. He reaches across the cereal-gravy combination and holds his hand out. “Gun.”

I sigh, passing the handgun over to Thomas. I don’t want to give it up, but I also don’t exactly have a choice. Damnit. It feels strange, not having a weapon on me. Not even a knife. My gaze inches towards the butter knife by my plate, but I feel eyes boring into me, and I look up.

“Don’t you dare.” Edd’s voice is surprisingly cold, although there’s a hint of fear on his face. I nod, looking away from the knife, and find myself looking into Thomas's eyes.

“First question. Who was the guy on the phone from earlier, and why did he call you ‘boss’?” Thomas's eyes narrow with a glare.

I grin. Thomas would make a terrible interrogator. Good stakes, good threats, but the questions are phrased so loosely that I can answer them honestly without giving everything away. Oldest trick in the book. 

“His name’s Pau, and why do you think he called me ‘boss?’” I ask, smirking slightly. It feels lopsided, from the ruined side of my face, but there’s not much I can do about that.

“What’s your profession?” Responds Edd. It’s a better question than Thomas's, a bit more specific, but still with loopholes.

“Computer scientist,” I say. It’s true; I do a lot of coding - hacking, really - as Red Leader.

“Why would a computer scientist be wanted for over one million Euros?” There it is. Thomas's ace in the hold. The reason he was so eager for this. No matter what I said, he knew enough about me to coax the truth out.

“It’s a part-time occupation,” I say, pleased at how smooth and cold my voice is. Didn’t let Thomas use his advantage any more than he could. 

“Wanted? Part-time? What ARE you talking about?” Edd’s voice is no longer cold. High-pitched fear is laced through his every word. “Tord. Explain. From the start.”

I inhale. From the start. Thomas knows so much about me anyways, It can’t hurt to tell him and his friends a bit more. “I was born into the Army.”

“What army?” Edd again.

“The Red Army. Military group dedicated to taking over the world.”

“I thought the Red Army was a terrorist group.” Thomas.

“Well, that too.” I ignore Edd’s shock and power on. “I was born into it. My mother died in a firefight with the Norwegian Armed Forces, and my father overdosed on pills when I was six. He never liked the Army -” MY Army, I think, “- And Mother’s death sent him over the edge.” I’m careful to put a tinge of sadness in my voice, with hints of regret, or Edd will wonder why I sound fine. I am fine. I was too young to know either of them. “I started training at nine years. Youngest person ever. The problem was I was a hopeless fighter, so they trained me with computers. Hacking, mostly.” I take a breath. I’ve never told anyone all this.

“Fuckin’ Commie,” Mutters Thomas, but I ignore him, going back to my story, although I decide to give them the shortened version. The one without me killing an eight-year-old. Mostly because Edd is an innocent bean, and I’d probably get stabbed by Thomas’s harpoon.

“I didn’t like my position, taught myself how to fight, how to shoot, etcetera. Someone at the top of the pecking order noticed, I went back into training, climbed the ranks. When the old Red Leader - the guy in charge of the army - died, I took over the operation in his place. I built the robot under the old house, but had to leave so I could dedicate some more time to the Army.” I don’t bring up the thing with Russia. “I came back, and...you know the rest.”

There’s an tense pause, interrupted by Matt going ‘What’s ‘the rest’?”.

“Commie came back, kicked me out, apparently punched you in the face, brought out his Giant Robot, and fucked -” I choke at Thomas's words.

“Damn, Thomas, you realize how that sounded, right? I mean, you can wish, but...” I trail off, grinning like a shark at Thomas's blush. 

“I-I was going to say ‘fucked up our lives’. Y’know what? Screw it, next question. Why -”

“- Tord, why did you lie to us?” Edd’s voice is shrill, and wavers slightly with...dear God, are those TEARS in his eyes? Weak stupid prey will get himself killed I’ll kill him - I snap out of my train of thoughts by Thomas clearing his throat.

“Answer the question, Commie bi -” I cut him off.

“Alright, alright.” I pause for a moment, doubting it would be a good idea to ask ‘Which lie are you talking about, anyways?’, so I assume he means the ‘I’m Pat’ thing. It’s a decent assumption, although there are multiple answers, all of them true.

The answer that would make Thomas the happiest - as happy as he’ll ever be with me in this apartment - is the logical one. Though he isn’t always logical himself, he’d appreciate the straight facts. Edd would listen best to an answer laced with apologies, although simple, and easy to follow, while Matt would appreciate something poetic, filled with subtle compliments, and huge amounts of apologies for hurting him and destroying his stuff. Then again, if I have to be honest, it would be best to cater to Thomas. No untruthful apologies. I’m not sorry I blew up the house, or punched Matt, or betrayed Edd, although I AM sorry that I let Thomas overwhelm me, pushing me to the point of impatience. The original plan was to live with Edd and the others for a few months, while adding on to the robot. If I had waited until those modifications were made, I wouldn’t be in this situation, having to answer Thomas’s questions.

“As I said,” I start, looking Edd in the eyes, (Or, in my case, ‘eye,’) “My friends have had an apartment here for the last year or so. After The End - the explosion. After the explosion, they dragged me over here. We had just depleted our stock of painkillers and bandages a few days ago, and when they had to go deal with a...problem…, I decided to see if I could get some medical crap from the neighbors. After that, it’s pretty simple. I didn’t expect to see either of you,” I gesture to Edd and Thomas, “And I panicked. Besides, I didn’t want Thomas to tackle me.” 

“Alright, a few things.” Thomas looks irritated. “One, DON’T call me ‘Thomas’. Two, I wasn’t going to tackle you -”

“- Yes you were. I literally had to grab your hoodie so you wouldn’t.” Edd shrugs, although his gaze is still trained on me.

“Okay, fine, I might have considered it for a moment. Three, what problem did your friends have to go deal with?”

“Well, TOMMY, it’s a long story.”

“First of all, I will stab you, second, we’ve got time.” Thomas - Tom, I remind myself - is obviously pissed at my choice of nickname, and I smile lopsidedly, proud that I managed to find some more of his buttons to push.

“Okay Jehovah. You remember all of the zombie outbreaks?” It feels weird, talking openly about my life.

“How could I forget, Commie?”

“The second outbreak,” I think it was the second one anyways, “Was caused by those friends I told you about.” 

“What?” Thomas - Tom, just call him Tom, chokes on air.

“We - THEY crashed a plane carrying some nuclear crap. I don’t know what happened after that, but somehow it created a ton of zombies.” I shrug my good shoulder. “Simple.”

Tom and Edd freeze. “When was this?” Asks Edd, eyes wide.

“I don’t know, a few years ago, sometime in the winter.” Why do they want to know?

“Oh, that’s funny, the ‘nuclear crap’ fell onto us, turned some snowmen insane, and the snowmen spread it to everyone else. You caused that? What. A. Coincidence.” Tom’s voice practically drips sarcasm, and I put on a ‘sheepish’ grin.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” 

Tom looks like he wants to say something, but he’s interrupted by a knock on the door. Whoever’s outside doesn’t even wait for someone to answer it, they just walk right in. I whirl around to look at whoever it is, and freeze. “Sonofa-”

“Hey, boss,” Says Pau, removing a bloody coat, and casually dropping his AK-74, followed by a weary Pat. “Sorry we’re late.”


	5. Old friends aren’t welcome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry. I have absolutely no excuse for why it took this long to write this. On the bright side, this is now cross-posted on Wattpad! Same username, same title, e.t.c. Enjoy!

I snap into ‘Red Leader’ mode almost instantly upon seeing the two, practically forgetting about Edd, Matt, and Tom.

“Idiots.” I allow all of the fake emotions to leave my voice, my face, even my posture, until all that’s left is my anger. “What the hell were you thinking?” I stand up, and stalk toward them, ignoring the stabs of pain in my leg. “I told you to stay.” After looking the pair up and down, I pause. Pat has the usual sheepish smile, familiar from the last time he crashed the plane. I only see him look like that when he knows he fucked up. In front of him, and slightly to the right, stands Pau, looking down, as if he’s trying to pretend he’s not here. Too late. “You disobeyed a direct order from your leader.”

It’s relaxing, in a brutally cold way, not spending every second of my time rearranging my features into fake emotions, or trying to change the pitches of my voice accordingly. Screw Edd and the gang, right now I’m in control, and it’s amazing. “You know what happens when a good little soldier disobeys their leader?” I grab Pau’s discarded gun, relishing the fear on his face. “That soldier has to...atone...for their crimes.”

Pat flinches. “Sorry boss, sir. We just wanted to -”

“- Fuck some shit up, apparently.” I eyeball Pat, casually swinging the gun up to point at him. “Tell me you -” I freeze, face stone. “Tell me you didn’t walk through the entire town wearing your Army uniforms. No, don’t tell me.” I drop the gun entirely, running my left hand through my hair. “God, I’m too fucking sober to deal with this…”

“If ya want a drink, you could just ask.” I whirl around, having honestly forgotten about Tom and the others while ranting at my idiot soldiers. Edd appears to be stunned, Matt, predictably, is confused, while Tom’s an interesting mix between confused, angry, fearful, and - I take a quick look at his hand to confirm my suspicions, and almost laugh upon seeing him holding a familiar canteen - drunk. Idiot. Lucky idiot.

“Got any vodka?” I hate how tired my voice sounds.

“Do you have a knife concealed in your left boot?” Good Lord, Tom knows me better than I thought.

“Yeah.”

“Vodka’s in the fridge. Hand over the knife.” At Tom’s request, or, I suppose, command, I shake my head.

“If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it before the two stooges arrived.”

“Weren’t there three stooges?” Edd seems to have regained his voice, and he looks like he’s trying his hardest to forget about my rant.

“Stooge number three died.” Pat was trained well; he shows no emotion when he says this, and Kenny’s death affected him the most.

“Oh.” Edd looks lost again. Prey. Never look like you don’t know exactly what’s going on.

“Knife.” Tom holds his hand out.

Nah. I answered your questions, and now I can at least defend myself when Jehovah inevitably attempts to kill me.” I shrug, putting on an ‘innocent’ face.

“Kid, give up. You’re not going to win this.” Pau raises his eyebrows, to great effect. “I’ve tried to win fights like these. You’ll end up with a broken nose.”

Tom’s indifferent. “Too late.”

Pat looks confused, and I try to explain.

“He tried to punch me.”

Pau chokes on air. “You tried to punch Red Leader, and you’re not in the ER? Damn, boss must really like you.”

Tom looks affronted. “He hates me. And I hate him.”

“It’s a love-hate relationship,” I quip. There’s a certain satisfaction to flustering Tom, who quickly changes the subject.

“Who’re these people?” His voice is starting to slur from the booze. I hesitate for a moment. What would be the best way to do this? Again, Tom would just want me to introduce them, without any ‘stupid complaining’, Edd would love the added drama, and Matt - I spare a glance at the ginger - is eating a cookie, oblivious to what's going on.

“Well, friends, I suppose introductions are in order.” I make my voice smooth as silk, with the same confident quality I have when working on propaganda. “This is General Pau, second-in-command of the Red Army.” Pau snaps into a salute, and I nod my approval, then sparing Tom a glance. He’s only partially paying attention, taking a swig from his flask.

“Who’s the other guy? Is he going to hurt me? I’m too pretty to die!” Matt’s wail cuts off anyone who might have tried to save me and succesfully forces me to tell them who Pat is in one swoop. I inhale, getting ready for the shitshow that will be sure to follow my introduction, and hide my apprehension under a blank mask.

“Commander Pat of the Red Army.” My voice is calm, empty, as though I were addressing one of the world leaders.

“You n-named yourself after this FUCKING IDIOT?!” Tom laughs drunkenly, clapping Edd on the back. “Ya here that, Edd? C-Commie fuck’s even more of an asshole t-than I thought!”

I’ll give Edd credit; he at least has the decency to look uncomfortable, turning slightly away from Tom.

“I’m so confused.” Pat’s voice is flat, and I turn around to look at him, raising my eyebrows.

“Well, thanks for remiding me of your unholy existence, scum of the Earth. We’ll have a talk about you two when we get back to our apartment.” I fix my soldiers with a glare, telling them they won’t get off the hook that easily.

“N-no way, Commie. We…” He trails off, leaning on his harpoon for support, “We still got some shit y-ya gotta tell us.”

“Tom, you’re absolutly shitfaced drunk. You’re not going anywhere but the ER for alchohol poisoning if you keep this up.” Edd raises his eyebrows, as if daring anyone to challenge him, but I’m not really paying attention.

Pat and Pau, the idiots, walked through the city in their uniforms. It’s a miracle they weren’t pulled over. Why? Our uniforms are famous; everyone knows what a Red soldier looks like. It doesn’t help that the two are already wanted. The police are most likely on their way. Now, in the apartment I share with the soldiers, we have some stuff (mainly guns) that might keep us from being thrown in jail, but in Edd’s apartment, we’re practically defenseless. The only thing we can do at this point is go to my - Pau’s, really - apartment.

It’s a great theory and all, but there’s one obvious, gaping problem: Tom isn’t going to let me go anywhere anytime soon. Conditions are less than optimal. Then again, I’m the Red Leader; since when have I let something as small as Jehovah (literally - Tom’s five foot three) stop me?

“Well, friends, I belive I have a solution.” I fix my soldiers with a glare, rememinding them to stay where they are, and turn to face the others. “As Witness here appears to be incapable of cooking anything suitable for human consuption, you can come on over to our apartment! Pat here will make something for you to eat, Tom can continue interrogating me, and we can discuss what we’re going to do next! Sound all right?”

“Yay, dinner!” Edd and Matt cheer in unison, before running down the hall, forgetting about Tom.

“Should we warn them about the bear traps?” Pau asks gruffly, and I look at him.

“Ah, psshhhh, they’ll be fine!” I grin, although it slides off my face as we walk away from Tom, leaving the black-eyed man to find his own way out. “Okay. When the police show, we stop them. Jehovah - Tom - can be a human sheild if neccesary. Don’t hurt Edd or Matt. We get to the base ASAP. Also, Tom will be interrogating me. Don’t intervene unless it looks like I’m about to be speared through. If he or Edd asks you questions, tell the truth.” I wait a moment, allowing my words to sink in, before adding, “Pat, you’re cooking.”


	6. Pat loves his apartment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for the short chapter; I just wanted to get out some content.

When we catch up to Edd and Matt, who are unsuccessfully attempting to open the door - I sigh as I remember I had locked the door before trying to get medical supplies from Matt - and cursing angrily.

“Boss, you’re right. These people are idiots,” Mutters Pat into my ear, and I nod. 

“Now you know why I left - NO EDD, PUT DOWN THAT CHAINSAW!”

\----------

It takes quite a bit of convincing to get Edd to put down the chainsaw, (Where DID he get that from?) And we have to quite literally pry Matt off of the door, so it takes longer than anticipated to reach the apartment. Much longer. I can practically hear the police sirens. 

“You know what? I’m going to go change. This is taking too long. Pau, make sure that Jehovah shows.” 

“What’re ya gonna change into? I didn’t know ya were gonna try to deny your hoodie obsession.” Pau smirks, obviously much more comfortable with teasing me when Edd and Matt are near. 

“Pau, I’m not even wearing a hoodie. This is one of Jehovah’s shirts. Besides, I don’t think it would look good for me if the authorities showed up and I was wearing a simple T-Shirt. Think about it.” I turn to shove my way into the apartment.

“I dunno, boss, it might help your image. After all, I’m sure the papers would love to portray you as someone other that a cold-blooded killer.”

“Fuck you, Pau.” I open the door, dodging the bear traps, and make my way into the apartment.

I’ve always loved Pau and Pat’s apartment. It’s a nice change of pace from the base, which is all concrete and steel. There’s a certain warmth to the red walls. Even when the Army was in shambles from The End, this apartment was always nice. 

You might be wondering why, if we can’t even afford bandages, we have a nice, decked out apartment. The answer is simple: Pat is obsessed with organizing things. Namely, his living space. You should see his office at the base.

I walk through the living room, a small, red furnished room with a miniature version of the lab in the base tucked in one corner. Covering the walls are propaganda, recruiting posters, flags with the Army’s symbol, and blueprints with my experiments on them. I’ve memorized the safest path through the apartment, as Pat seems to find it amusing to make it as dangerous as humanly possible for any possible to navigate.

Dodge the bear traps, duck the heat sensor, turn off the small robot - all simple stuff. I spring the last trap, and slip into my bedroom

Really, the room I call mine is Pat’s, but when I moved in, Pat started sleeping in Pau’s room, as they were both too smart to try to share a room with me. However, I can still see traces of Pat in the blood splattering the walls (Pat has a gift for merciless killing. That’s what makes him valuable), in the memes printed out and hung over his bed, in the sniper rifle (His weapon of choice) in a corner, and most importantly in the framed note from me saying ‘Don’t crash the plane’ Ah, just like old times.

I cross the room to the closet, flinging it open to reveal my uniform. Ah, I love my uniform. Just the right combination of power and glory and magnificence. Perfect.

It’s really not a very complex outfit - grey pants, combat boots, a red hoodie under a blue coat, but unlike the simple soldier uniform, I have a set of shiny gold badges over my heart, and the fur coat doesn’t wrap around my body the way it does for Pau and Pat; instead, it’s long, with fur trim.

I slip the hoodie over my head, surprised at how well Edd’s bandages protect the burns. After that, I pull on the combat boots and the coat, adjust my ‘Red Leader’ badge, and close the closet door.

I walk into the kitchen to see that Pat and Pau have already brought Edd and Matt in, along with Tom. Speaking of Tom, I make a mental note to return his shirt. Maybe he’ll let me keep it - I was beginning to find it endearing.

“Wow, Tord. You don’t look entirely horrible.” Edd raises his eyebrows.

“Ja, takk skal du ha.” I pause at Edd and Matt’s confused faces. “That was a compliment, correct?” 

Pat snorts. “Boss, ya want a translator? Ya really should try to stick to one language.”

“Oh.” When I’m stressed, I tend to mix up English with Norwegian, and I would consider waiting in an apartment for the cops to arrive stressful. Well, not maybe stressful, but it certainly makes me...apprehensive.

“Hey, boss, wasn’t Pat going to make dinner? I think that’s what ya said.”

“Fuck you, Pau.”

“Fuck you too.”

“Fuck you more.”

“SOLDATER!” I take a deep breath, everyone in the room going silent from my outburst. “Shut the hell up.” 

“What the fuck.” Tom blinks, sounding much more sober than ten minutes ago. “Commie...What. The. Fuck.”

“Friends.” I take a placating breath, holding up my hands. “Pat, you’re in charge of dinner. Pau, you’ve got firearms.”

“Firearms?” I can’t tell if Edd’s scared or excited.

“Yeah, firearms. In case ya didn’t notice, boss is in love with the damn things.” At Pau’s statement, Tom goes red. Interesting. I don’t have much time to think, though, because for the second time today, someone’s knocking on the door, and like with Pau and Pat, I don’t think I’ll be happy to see the people doing the knocking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like this, please comment. I’m literally starving for validation rn :’)


	7. The statistical probability of Tord escaping the police

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got through my writers block :/
> 
> HEY, guess who posted another story? This one is called ‘Dear Commie’ (not a Dear Starboy reference), and it’s about Tom! Feel free to check it out!

Contradicting popular belief, I didn’t try to light the apartment on fire. I just have a thing for dramatic entrances. 

…

...

Okay, I lied. Putting all of Pat’s earthly possessions up in flames was one of the most satisfying things I’ve ever done. Granted, my plan wasn’t originally to make as much of a scene as I did, but it was fun. Besides, no one died, and no one was thrown in jail. Better than what happened with the Russian incident. Or the thing with Kenny. Or the thing with - 

“Hey, boss? Did ya wanna see the footage?” Pau snaps me out of my thoughts.

“What footage?”

“Ya know how the news caught your...whatever ya gonna call that? I recorded it. Ya can see what happened the way the rest of the world did.”

“Ja. That would be excellent.” Ah, Pau. The only times he can plan ahead is when the Red Army is in times of crisis. Frustrating, but I’m not about to complain.

Pau passes me a laptop that apparently appeared out of fucking nowhere. Another one of his talents - conjuring.

“Boss, ya gotta be careful with this computer. Straight outta lab Four.”

I roll my eyes. “Soldat, unless you’ve conveniently forgotten, I’m in charge of laboratory production. I know everything about every project. You are dismissed.” Pau salutes, and leaves.

The door to my office slides shut with a hiss, and I sit down at my desk with the computer. I flip it open, and slowly smile. 

Shining silver keys, a sleek monitor - I’ll have to reward the techies in Four. As always, they exceeded expectations.

I power it on, pressing my finger against a small panel for verification. It’s a simple task of flipping through apps and start pages, and then I’m looking at a video. I recline in my worn, smoke-scented leather seat, and press play.

“Hello, my name is, Mark Hanson, live on the scene downtown in the city of -” Here someone on screen yells something incoherent, cutting off our location, “- where apparently some soldiers from the notorious Red Army have been seen. Officers are attempting to apprehend them.” The blond newsman, Mark, is oddly familiar. I feel like I should know him.

“...and here is the Chief of Police, Mr. Christian Harris, here with some information on the Red Army - and its leader.”

The camera moves to a tall, dark man. “Yes, thank you, thank you. For those of you ignorant imbeciles who do not even attempt to stay educated about your world, the Red Army is a terrorist group from Norway. We believe that they are attempting to do something none of you idiots would ever be capable of - world domination. We do not know of their roots, but they are currently lead by the Red Leader.” Harris holds up one of my wanted posters, and I narrow my eyes at him, even though I know he can’t see me. I can’t explain why, but I despise him even though this was the first I’d heard of him.

“Thank you, Chief.” The camera pans back to Mark. “Now, two of these Red soldiers came strolling down through town a half hour back. Eyewitness accounts tell us that they entered this apartment building.” The camera moves to the side, and I see a front view of the apartments. “One of these soldiers is believed to even be Red Leader’s right-hand man.”

Mark continues to talk, most likely just attempting to keep viewers entertained until they can show the ‘Red soldiers’. I mostly zone out, until he perks up a bit.

“...and here they are, although there is no sign of Red Leader.” Pau and Pat are dragged into view. Pat sighs, rolling his eyes, and Pau is fighting even while he’s handcuffed.

“I feel like it’s my duty to tell you that when Red finds out you have us in your custody, he’ll kick your asses.” Pat shifts his weight as he addresses the camera.

It’s now that Pau chooses to speak, glaring into the camera. “All hail Red Leader!” 

“Yeah. What he said.” Pat blinks slowly. 

“Oh.” Mark looks as confused as someone can be. Prey. “Well then.” He tries to continue to speak, but he’s drowned out by screaming.

“HOLY-FUCK-THE-BUILDINGS-ON-FIRE-MY-APARTMENT-MY-EVERYTHING-!” Pat screeches, but Pau’s worried about something else.

“Someone’s still in there!” His eyes are wide and panicked, as he pauses from the hapless thrashing he calls fighting.

The camera faces the apartments again. Flames are coming out of the windows on the top floor. It looks much more dramatic than it actually was, trust me.

“No one’s in there. We got the three guys in your place out.”

“He’ll be fine, Pau.” Pat’s calm again, and I’m back to debating his loyalty. When he’s worried about his simple apartment, he flips out, but when it’s me...as Pau would say, he ‘doesn’t give any shits’.

“Woah,” Mark breaths out, obviously having forgotten about the camera recording him. Up on the roof of the building, a figure climbs out of the window, carrying a huge flag in one hand and some things the camera doesn’t catch in the other. Once on the roof, he stands tall, ignoring the flames, Red Army flag rippling in the wind, and raises something to his mouth. I smile; I’ve always loved the way I look on T.V.

He - I, I suppose, shift my weight, waiting until attention is on me, and then raise something up to my mouth. A handheld speaker with a five-mile radius. Perfect for giving speeches.

“Hello, friends.” Onscreen, my voice booms through the speaker, and immediately, anyone who wasn’t aware of my presence is. “It seems that you have found a few of my soldiers. I congratulate you. However, now I have to deal with the rather pressing matter of how to get them back.”

Onscreen, Pat laughs, nudging Pau. “I told you he’d be fine.” 

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

Up on the roof, I continue speaking. “For those of you who don’t know, I am Red Leader, working to build a glorious nation of equality.” I dramatically pause. “Now, it’s been truly wonderful spending time with you, but I really must be going.” Then, I fall off the roof. 

—— a little while ago ——

The knocking intensifies, and immediately Matt begins to panic.

“Who’s that? Are they going to hurt my beautiful face? I’m too pretty to die!” Matt ends his monologue with a wail, and Edd rolls his eyes.

“Matt, shut up. I’m done - done - with you’re guys’ shit. Tord, fuck you. Whatever you said your names are -” He gestures at Pat and Pau, “ -Fuck you. Tom, I’m surprised you’re still standing. Fuck you.” He flips us all the bird, and walks towards the door. The same door that the police, or whomever the fuck they are, are standing behind.

Pau seems to realize that as well. “Fucking hell-! Damnit kid, leave the door…!” I don’t hear the rest of his sentence, because I’m ducking through the living room door, hopping around a bear trap. 

I pull out a bag, and go around the room stuffing my more important projects into the sack. One blueprint for DNA cross-experimentation, complete with a sketch of a huge, one-eyed monster. A few different models for the robot that Tom ruined - I wouldn’t want those getting in the hands of the authorities. A speaker the people in Lab Four, the smartest people on base (With the exception of me), had made a little while ago. An invention of my own that’s literally a walkie-talkie with international range. And finally, and possibly most importantly, a red robotic arm.

Looking at the arm gives me mixed emotions - A part of me is almost...happy; it will be more powerful than my organic arm ever will be. Another part, one significantly smaller, hates looking at it, hates everything it reminds me of and symbolizes, and a slightly larger part really doesn’t want to amputate my arm without meds, or even just some painkillers. After all, though, that’s what I’ll have to do eventually. The prosthetic is a replacement for my right arm, and all I can do is pray it works when the time comes.

I load everything in my bag, moving awkwardly from the burns on my arm and leg. I’m about to leave, but two other things catch my eye. One is a huge - huge - black flag with the Red Army’s symbol on it, and the other is a jetpack. 

Well, it’s not truly a jetpack, but a backpack-like invention built built for breaking falls. It’s virtually a parachute without the parachute. Actually, it was built for Pau and Pat - It might have been only once that they crashed the plane, but I wasn’t going to take any risks. 

I take one last look around the apartment, staring at all of my partially finished inventions and government papers. It really would be a shitshow if the police were to search this place, and end up finding anything that could give them information on the Army. A shitshow I’m not ready to manage. I pause, thinking about what to do, an idea sparking into my mind upon seeing Pau’s lighter. It’s risky, but the government sure won’t be getting any information out of this place.

I pick up the flag and slip on the not-parachute/jetpack/whatever the fuck you’re going to call it, hissing from the sudden pain as I loop the other bag over my right arm, and pick up the lighter.

Wait.

I almost forgot.

I want to be recognizable, after all.

Setting the flag down, I jog across the apartment, ignoring the stabs of pain from my leg. I slow down once the kitchen sink is in view, and I drop the other bag. It takes a moment for the water to start running (Pat has a strange insistence against paying any water or electricity bills, and at this point it’s my inventions keeping the place working), and then I stick my head under the water, allowing the significant amounts of hair gel keeping my hair from going into its gravity-defying spikes to wash out. 

When I’m certain my hair is once again ‘all natural’, I stand up, letting the water to drip down my face. I shake my head, wincing at the sensation of wet bandages plastered across my skin. I pause, contemplating said bandages, before unraveling them. While it might not be entirely smart to take them off, at this point I couldn’t care less.

I blink at the sensation of air hitting my burnt skin, wincing slightly. Edd will most likely kill me later, but I can’t worry about that right now. No, Tord. No worrying about your inevitable doom. Bad Tord.

I pick up the flag, adjust the backpack-y thing (What creative names), loop the sack over my shoulder, and open the window. I glance down, watching two small figures wearing all-too familiar uniforms leave the building, and sigh. I’d have thought they would have put up more of a fight.

I turn away from the window, and flick the lighter switch. The hand holding the lighter seems to move of its own accord, towards an old Red recruiting poster, smoke trailing from the tiny flame. The fire touches the corner, and slowly the paper begins to curl in on itself.

I take a moment to stare at the fire. It entrances me, blackening the paper with a dancing precision. Did the fire that took my Robot move like this, flickering hypnotically with a grace unachievable by anything else?

The blueprints next to the poster suddenly going up in a whoosh of flames distracts me from my thoughts. “Faen!”

I take a deep breath, trying to slow down my breaths. The fire had startled me more than I had realized. Idiot. I shake my head and walk to the window. The police will certainly be monitoring the doors. This is the only safe way out. 

Ignoring the burst of pain from my arm as I heave the window open, I climb through. 

Inhale.

Exhale. 

Time stands still. 

Then someone shouts something at me, and I feel a wicked grin creep onto my face. No faking this emotion - I must say, I’m excited as hell.

Shit ‘bout to go down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment if you like this! Author-chan needs validation :)


	8. Red Leader kicks butt (part one)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s part one of the next chapter! Sorry I had to cut it into two parts, I really wanted to publish this :>

“Hello, friends.” A pleased shiver goes down my spine from so many people focused on me, from the power I bestow over them. From my vantage point on the roof, everyone’s tiny. The way they should be. I take a deep breath, and continue. “It seems that you have found a few of my soldiers. I congratulate you. However, now I have to deal with the rather pressing matter of how to get them back.” I shift my weight, adjusting my grip on the flag. “For those of you who don’t know, I am Red Leader, working to build a glorious nation of equality.” Let that sink in. “Now, it’s been truly wonderful spending time with you, but I really must be going.” 

I plant the flag in between two planks of wood, exhale, and step forward. This is where my flair for dramatics comes in handy. I shift the bag on my arm so it isn’t on the worst of the burns, and then I take a step forward.

And another one.

And then the building is no longer under my feet and the ground is rushing up towards me and my stomach is in my throat and with a whoosh of air the backpack activates yanking the breath out of me and I float gently to the ground.

Then comes the screaming.

I give a breathy laugh, adrenaline racing through my veins. This is what I was made for. This sort of chaos, where no one but me knows what’s happening. I reach down, slipping out the knife from my left boot (remember that?) into my sleeve, and rise again.

A list of goals flash through my mind: Retrieve Pat and Pau, blow some stuff up, find Edd, Matt, and Tom, then haul butt to base. Okay. I can do this. I’m better stronger more powerful NOT PREY.

Then someone grabs my shoulder.

I whirl around, the bag from my arm slipping to the ground, and I’m staring at some blond guy in a police uniform.

...well than.

This is going to be even more fun than I originally anticipated. A sick smile works its way onto my face as he pulls out a gun.

“Red Leader, you are under arrest for…” I zone out as he drones on, lazily lifting my hands in the air in a gesture of peace. Then he pulls out the handcuffs.

Oh.

Oh, HELL no.

I swing an awkward, right-handed punch at him, which he blocks easily. My other hand grabs his arm, the one holding the pistol, and I twist it sideways in one smooth movement, relishing the crack of bone and his strangled yelp of pain. Sidestepping what appears to be an attempt at a tackle (Untrained piece of crap,), I smash my fist into his face, and he falls to the side. 

“Red Leader, put your hands in the air and turn around. Step away from the body.” I whirl around at the Brooklyn accent, to see…

Fuck.

“What. Is. This. Loser. Doing. Here.” Two seething brown eyes glare into mine, and I shiver. I’ve seen this man once before, although Edd had had plenty to say about him.

“Eduardo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated! Even if you can’t leave me 1k words of notes and feedback *coughs awkwardly* your thoughts are always appreciated!
> 
> (Although I’ll never say no to 1k words of notes and feedback)


	9. Red Leader kicks butt (part two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy, this was a fun chapter to write! Ugh, sorry for any details that aren’t logical or whatever.
> 
> On a different note, HUGE shoutout to my pal The_Resurrection_3D for leaving me those 1k comments I joked about last update.

“What are you doing here?” I narrow my eyes at the brown haired man, spitting out the words. Eduardo looks equally upset, glaring viciously at me.

“I joined the police.” He looks me up and down, pinning me in his gaze. I hate the weak, trapped, prey-like feeling his stare gives me, and I look away. “You look awful. Not to imply that you don’t deserve it. What with what happened to Jon,” His voice breaks a little at the end of the sentence (prey), and my head shoots up to look him in the eyes.

“What?”

Eduardo looks shocked by my exclamation. “Y-you killed Jon…”

I snort, my expression blank. “I’ve killed lots of people. You’ll have to elaborate.”

“Your loser droid thing.” Someone walks up and says something to Eduardo, but I’m not paying attention. Your loser droid thing. The robot. An image of a man wearing blue crumpled on the ground flashes into my memory and I slowly exhale. I remember the triumph I had felt, when I had been so sure the figure was Tom. It hadn’t been him. It hadn’t been Tom because I had killed the other man he was dead and never coming back.

Jon.

His name is - was - Jon. 

“Oh.” My voice doesn’t betray the pain - not pain. I’m Red Leader. Red Leader doesn’t feel pain. Emotional turmoil, perhaps, but not pain - I’m feeling.

“‘Oh’? That’s all you have to say?” The mask of anger is gone from Eduardo’s face, leaving only a deep sadness.

Prey.

“Yes. His death was...unfortunate and unforeseen. A pity.” I keep my tone professional.

“Well, it’s a pity that you’ll spend the rest of your life in a damn prison cell. And when I say ‘rest of your life’, I mean until we can get a date for the death penalty.” Eduardo turns around and walks away. “Lock him up. I don’t want to see his loser face again.”

It takes a moment for his words to register in my mind. Death. I suppose I’ve never really been afraid of death before; I’m hardened by how many times I’ve seen it. And yet a bolt of what I can only describe as fear shoots through my stomach.

Death.

What would happen to the Army, to my dreams of making the world a better place, somewhere where everyone is equal, if I were to die?

Death.

My ideas would disappear. The world would go back to the chaotic mess it is now.

Death.

I feel like I’m about to throw up.

I stand stock-still as a pair of handcuffs are snapped onto my wrists (I cringe as the metal scrapes my burns) while people cheer. It’s the cheering that I hate. They celebrate me being locked up, when in reality I’m their savior. I’m the only one that will take a stand to improve the world, and they cheer as I’m led away towards my doom.

Slowly the tension and fear - not fear Red Leader fears nothing I’m not afraid - ebb away from my body, leaving only a deep, burning anger. They dare lock me up. I’m better than all of them. I’m smarter, stronger, superior in every way, and yet they triumphantly lead me through the crowd with handcuffs on my wrists.

I’m better than them.

I’m the Red Leader.

I will survive.

As I’m brought near Pau and Pat - both of whom advoid my eye - I make sure they can see my hands. 

A simple flick of my fingers.

A simple message without words.

And then, as if it’s happening in slow motion, the knife from my sleeve slips into my hand and I toss it to Pau, who twists around to catch it even with his hands handcuffed behind his back. He deftly saws through Pat’s bindings (what absolute idiot would tie their hands with rope? Were they saving the handcuffs for me or something?), who then does the same for the former.

This all happens in the span of a few moments, yet those moments feel like years.

And then suddenly time is sped up again to its normal speed, and Pat and Pau are viciously fighting their way over to me, and blood splatters across my face.

The grin from earlier creeps its way back onto my face. 

I watch as Eduardo leaps into the fray, and I shake my head. He’s going to die, isn’t he.

Except he doesn’t. He moves inhumanly fast as he kicks Pat, who goes flying. Pau slowly steps back, raising his hands to the sky, and I know why. No one should have been able to kick Pat that far. Not even I would have been able to. 

Eduardo turns to look at me, giving me a triumphant grin, his green eyes meeting mine.

Green eyes.

Weren’t his eyes brown?

I don’t, however, have time to consider why this is, because Pat has recovered in a startlingly short amount of time, and has tackled Eduardo from behind, holding him down. Pau smashes his boot into Eduardo’s face, and the latter falls to the floor with a thud.

The same way Jon must have.

“Boss, we gotta go!” Pau does something behind my back that I can’t see, and the handcuffs fall to the ground. He then grabs my unharmed arm and pulls me after him. I shake my way out of his grip, and follow them. The three of us sprint toward the car...where there are already people inside? What? 

“Pau...why… are there...people...in…the car?” I try to speak through my heaving breaths. I’m in worse shape than I had thought, if I can’t sprint this far without feeling this exhausted.

“Those would be your friends.” Pat answers for Pau, not even looking winded. Another reason he’s one of my top soldiers. I suppose he isn’t as trustworthy or loyal as Pau, but he’s sure in great physical condition.

“What?”

“You said their names were Edd, Matt, and Tom, right? I didn’t think you’d want them blabbing to the tabloids or whatever, so I brought them with us.”

“It doesn’t matter now, just go!” We’ve reached the small red car, and I shove Pau inside. Pat runs around to the other side and gets in the driver’s seat. The moment I’m in Pau floors the gas, not even waiting for me to close the door. I take a few deep breaths. When I’m energized enough to look up, however, I sigh and put my head back down.

“Edd, can we trade spots? I’m not sitting by commie.”

“Wow, Witness, you sound sober.”

“It’s amazing what some adrenaline can do.”

“Tord.”

“What, Edd?”

“Where are your bandages?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tordle boi’s screwed >:D
> 
> I’m getting to the plot, I promise.
> 
> Like always, don’t forget to comment!


	10. Drunken soldiers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, this was a hard chapter to write. Sorry it’s short. The next one (which will be called either ‘Good ideas usually aren’t Tord’s’ or ‘Tord infringes on copyright’, what do you guys like more?), will be longer, 2k to 3k words!
> 
> Anyways, enjoy the chapter.

The video on the monitor stops, and I exhale. It had been interesting, seeing me on camera in that way. Quite the experience. I lean back, and close the computer. While the original plan was to go to the England base, it had to be evacuated due to the zombies that Pau and Pat hadn’t taken care of, so I’m currently in the Norway base. We had arrived at night, so no one’s seen me yet. Now, however, it’s noon, and there’s no better time than to face my soldiers than this moment, when they’re all in the mess hall eating lunch.

I rise, stretching. Once Edd had completed chewing me out, he had re-wrapped the worst of my wounds with scraps of cloth from his hoodie until we could get back to the base. Despite the amount of money we had lost, overall the base was relatively self-sustaining, and it hadn’t taken long to get me some bandages. 

A few steps in the direction of the door later, I’m exiting my office. The door hisses shut behind me as I walk into the stainless steel corridors of the Red Army’s main base. I suppose I’m a bit worried about what my soldiers will say when they see me...not to imply that I actually care about what they think of me; I simply don’t want them to attempt to take advantage of what they will see as a ‘disadvantage’. I certainly wouldn’t want a rebellion on my hands. 

I’ve put on my Red Leader uniform, I have my name tag pinned on my jacket, there should be no mistaking who I am; as I walk through the building, I’m beginning to regret this.

The halls are mostly empty, save a few startled looking janitors. One doesn’t even bother to salute upon seeing me; he blinks a few times and whispers to his frightened looking companion, and I feel a hot wave of anger wash through my stomach. 

“Soldat.” I don’t bother to put any emotions in my voice.

“I’m jussa janitor. Notta soldier.” He hiccups, obviously drunk off his ass, and I glare. It’s only been a few weeks since I was last at this base, and this is what’s happened to it? 

“Well, janitor, I would advise showing some respect to your bloody leader.” I narrow my eyes, staring him down.

“Heh, was thatta pun? Bloody leader? Red Leader? Thasss’ funny.” 

I walk into the mess hall with blood splattered on my face.

Utter silence follows my entry.

The large room goes from being filled with chatter to quiet enough to hear a pin drop, if you’ll excuse the cliche. In one corner, Pau and Pat exchange matching smirks, and I can practically feel the need for drama radiating off of them. 

“Red Leader!” A short man with chestnut colored hair and a black mask runs up to me, slowing at the last minute. “S-sir, what happened?”

When I speak, I don’t address him, but the entire room. “As you may have heard, the mission was a failure. Obviously.” At my words, some of the soldiers begin to whisper. 

“No shit, Red! What actually happened? Did you finally get beat? Your ego had something to do with it, didn’t it?” A female soldier with a rumpled uniform and an American drawl stands up, and on first glance, it’s obvious she's just as drunk as the janitor was.

“Haha. Very...amusing. It’s quite comfortable to know how respectful you become in my absence.” I stalk towards her. “However hilarious this conversation is, though, I cannot help but feel slightly...challenged.” At this point, I’m practically on top of the idiotic girl. “I didn’t get to a position of power by being lenient to challengers, you know.” She pales, glancing to the side in a sudden moment of sobriety, but I don’t stop talking. “You know what I do to people like you?” She shakes her head, and opens her mouth soundlessly. I grin. “They die.” I reach into my coat and pull out my trusty handgun.

“Tord, no!” An all-too familiar voice cuts through the room, and I whirl around to stare at the door. Edd walks in, shaking his head. He’s followed by Matt and Tom, the former of whom looks rather dazed.

“Tord, huh? Nice to know the feared Red Leader has a name.” The girl is back to her former cocky state. I stare into her eyes as I pull the trigger.

Edd shouts something, but at this point, I don’t care. Cold, hard anger is coursing through my body as I pull the trigger again.

And again.

Even when the gun’s empty, I yank on the trigger and the gun clicks repeatedly.

It’s not until the chestnut-haired man squeaks that I lower the gun to a silent room.

“Well.” I slowly walk forward to the front of the room, boots making a clacking noise on the floor, unable to shake a feeling of self-consciousness at the number of people silently staring at me. I love it. “I’d like to thank min soldat for giving me this wonderful opportunity to show all of you what happens when you’re balatently disrespectful to me. I trust that none of you will make the same mistake…?”

Silence.

“Good.” I’ve reached the head of the room, and I raise my voice a bit. “As you can see, the Army has suffered a loss. However, while I have been physically harmed, my resolve is stronger than ever. I can only hope that yours will be the same.” I put a steely determination into my voice. “With this step back, we will take two steps ahead. We have learned from this, and we’ll continue to learn.” I feel as though I’ve lost all control over my voice, and all that remains is hatred. Hatred for the janitor, for the American girl, for the chief of police. Hatred for Tom. “Tomorrow, we conquer Londen. We sacrifice the remains of our anonymity in order to take our first step to world domination and the reign of communism!”

There’s a moment of silence, in which I feel incredibly vulnerable - Red Leader’s never vulnerable what am I thinking - , but then someone rises to their feet and shouts “Heil Rød Leder!” and then everyone begins cheering. I can breath again.

“Nice job, boss.” I jump slightly, not having heard Pau behind me. “Ya know, I never pegged ya to be one for inspiring speeches.”

I make no effort to put any emotions on my face, although I give him a nod. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”

“You didn’t have to wreck my apartment for your fucking dramatic entrance.” Pat has apparently joined us.

“Once Europe’s ours, ya can have multiple apartments. Oh, wait, ya can’t. Communism doesn’t work that way, you goddamn idiot. It’s a miracle ya managed to keep ya claws on the one ya had for as long as ya did.”

I give Pau another nod. “Well stated.” Pau grins, looking pleased with himself. “Now go prepare your troops. We can’t have your men too exhausted to fight, can we?”

“If the plan works, they won’t need to fight,” Pat interjects, still obviously peeved from our dismissal of his precious apartment.

“Very true, comrade. Now go.” I wave my hand in his direction in a dismissing guesture.

“Yes, your majesty.” Pau turns around to leave, pulling Pat with him. I sigh. I really must get ready for tomorrow, but at the same time, I can’t shake the feeling that I wanted to do something.

Oh well, I’m sure I’ll think of it later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm, I wonder what Tord forgot? Nevermind, I already know :3 .
> 
> I know that I say this all the time, but don’t forget to comment!
> 
> ALSO I may or may noot have forgotten to edit this so...yee. Let me know if you spot any mistakes and I’ll fix them ASAP!


	11. Edd the cosplayer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I said this chapter was gonna be called something different, but this title suited it better. Sorry!
> 
> Also, I have another story up on my profile ^^

It’s been about a half hour since I had told the Army that we’d invade England tomorrow. Since then, the base has been chaos. We had to contact our other bases for backup, deal with the evacuees from the UK base, and just prepare our soldiers in general. Overall, I’m relatively confidant in the Army, but I’m certainly not going to leave any room for error. Now, there’s just one thing I have to do -

“Hey! Todd!” Ah, speaking of errors. 

I whip around to look at Matt and Tom, who are running up the hall. 

“Holyfuckhelpushelpushelpus-!” Tom practically throws himself behind me upon reaching me, and Matt...There’s just Matt and Tom.

“Where is Edward.” I don’t phrase it as a question, and Tom doesn’t take it as one.

“Wow, you could act a little more happy to see us. We’re your friends, after all.” His voice is faint from running, but I can hear him nonetheless.

I open my mouth to reply with a snarky comment, but I’m interrupted.

“Stop right there!”

My head snaps back up for the second time in a minute, just in time to see a very upset looking Pat round the corner, followed by a half dozen soldiers. 

“Don’t move or we shoot!” This time, the speaker is someone else, an ordinary solder. I glare at him, stepping to the side so they have a clear view of Tom. 

“What’s going on?” I allow an ‘irritated’ look to slip onto my face.

“Oh, hey boss.” Pat gives me a miniscule nod which I don’t reciprocate, and he sighs. “The eyeless one raided my office. It’s fucking hell in there now.”

Oh.

Of course it had something to do with his office.

I groan frustratedly, and walk towards them. “You are all idiots. You’re supposed to be getting your soldiers together, and you’re chasing down Matthew and Thomas instead? If this keeps up, we’ll have to call off tomorrow, and I do not think that any of your comrades would appreciate that.”

Pat goes white as a sheet. “No sir.” He turns around and motions for his soldiers to follow him, walking back around the bend.

A part of me wants to feel better after that. Usually winning a power play like that gives me confidence, makes me proud. Not this time. Perhaps it’s nerves for tomorrow, perhaps it has to to do with Tom’s stare practically boring holes into the back of my head. Whatever the cause, however, it’s a new feeling. I don’t like it. 

“Jehovah. Where. Is. Edd.” I keep my voice completely emotionless. Hide my thoughts. They’re weak stupid pointless prey thoughts and for a moment I hate myself - I shake my head, careful not to let Tom or Matt see what I’m thinking. 

“Edd? Oh. I don’t actually know. He disappeared into some room when we were running from your hitmen.”

“They’re soldiers, not hitmen.” I pause, using my mental map of the base to try to guess where Edd might have gone. “Did you see the number of the room Edd went into?”

“Nah.” Tom looks like he wants to say more, but he’s interrupted by Matt.

“Nope! There was a pretty big four - like the number - above the door, though. It was cool. And shiny, too! I could see my beautiful face in it!” Matt beams, pulling a mirror from his hoodie pocket.

A four over the door. I pause, thinking. A big, shiny four. There’s only one room in the base that matches this description - that is, if Matt’s correct. Lab Four. The place where I grew up working in. The main suppliers of our gadgets and tech. The place where Edd is.

Well, shit. 

“Thank you, Matt. Thomas, we need to go find him before he blows up the base.” I start down the hall in the direction that Pat vanished. Tom mutters a quick ‘don’t call me Thomas’, but follows without much of a hassle, pulling Matt with him.

Lab Four really isn’t that far from where we were, so it’s a quick walk to the familiar doors. Matt nods and says something along the lines of ‘that’s it!’, but I’m not paying attention. There are more pressing things on my mind than Matt’s antics.

I slip into the room just in time to hear the masked man with the chestnut hair speak.

“You know, that could actually work.” His voice is rather quiet, with just the faintest hint of a stutter. “We could make a time machine if we needed to.” 

A woman who looks to be in her late fifties nods. “Of course we could do it, Red Leader. The danger would be that you alter time. There are consequences to this sort of thing, you know.”

What.

“Stop.” I keep my voice calm, although I can’t entirely banish a furious tremor from my voice. “What’s going on?”

The ten odd people in the room move, to show a figure in the back of the room. He’s wearing an army uniform, his dark hair is spiked up into horns, and the side of his face is splotched in red.

If I wasn’t so furious, I’d laugh.

“Edd. Why are you dressed up as me.”

“Wait, Red?” Someone else, a young man with blonde hair, looks from Edd to me with a confused look on his face.

“Max.” I address the blonde man. “I’ve worked with you for years. Did you really think that was me?”

“Who?”

“Me. Red Leader.” Frustration washes over me.

“You’re Tord.”

“We know a Red Leader. Not a Tord.”

“He does look familiar,”

“Which o-one?”

“The one that looks like he’s about to kill us all.”

“Red Leader also looks familiar though.”

“The one with the hair horns?”

“They both have hair horns.”

“True.”

“But what if his real name’s Tord?”

“The one with the light hair called Red ‘Edd’. Maybe that’s his name.”

“Didn’t w-we just say his name was Tord?”

“Be quiet!”

Everyone turns to look at me.

“I’m Red Leader. This is my friend, Edd.” I feel as though I’m explaining this to a three year old. “I don’t know what he’s doing, looking like me- ”

“ -He’s trying to get us to build a time machine!” The caramel haired man - Riju. His name’s Riju, I remind myself - says excitedly.

Wait what -

A time machine.

Edd actually wants to build a time machine.

“That is a horrible plan. How did you even get the idea in the first place?” I put a ‘confused’ façade on my face.

“Actually- ” Tom starts, only to be interrupted by Edd.

“And what if I tell you why I had that idea!” Edd looks desperate, and I wonder what he didn’t want me to hear. Oh well, I’ll get it out of Tom eventually.

“Yeah, Edmund why did you wanna do that?” Matt looks genuinely curious, and I fight a smile.

“Edmund?” Edd looks rather peeved at Matt’s version of his name. “Okay, fine. So I was thinking that I could go back in time and…” He trails off, looking embarrassed. Prey.

“Do what?” Riju blinks innocently.

“I...um…” Red spreads over Edd’s cheeks, and he lowers his eyes.

“Just fucking spit it out.” Tom glares, obviously done with Edd’s shit.

“Iwasgonnastopyoufromleaving.”

Everyone in the room gives Edd a weird look, but Tom’s the one to speak up.

“Oh my God, man up. Fucking drama queen. You are aware that no one can understand you when you talk at warp speed, right?” Despite his rough words, however, his voice is laced with amusement.

“You said y-your name’s Edd, right?” Riju speaks up again, giving the former a curious glance.

“Yeah.”

“Well, Edd, I-I’m sure it’s okay if you don’t want t-to tell us what your intent was!” Riju beams, although he gives me a quick glance to see if his decision is okay. Riju and the other lab Four techies are most likely the only people in the base, excluding Pau and Pat, who would attempt to overrule my word. Most likely because they’re the group of technicians I worked with before I was formally put into training to be a soldier. They’re some of the only people I would truly call ‘friends’, even if our friendship only exists because they work for me.

“Yes, Edward, you don’t have to tell us. At least, not right now.” Who knows, perhaps I’ll decide to pursue the subject in the future. Edd doesn’t look entirely happy with my response, but he lets it go. “We’ll leave you to work now. We need you to work on cloning those laser guns so we have enough for tomorrow.” I begin shepherding Edd, Matt, and Tom out of the laboratory, though not before giving them one last glance. “And excellent work with the computer. When we control London,” Not if, when, “Then you may begin mass producing those.” With that, I leave.

Remember when I said the base was chaotic? The frenzied mess I step into when I leave the lab is about ten times worse. The narrow hall is a sea of blue and red, shouting voices, and it hurts my ears my head my everything I feel sick I’m going to throw up because there's TOO MANY PEOPLE GET ME OUT I’M DYING I’M IN THE ROBOT BURNING FALLING CRYING EVERYONE’S YELLING PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE-

“ -Tord? Tord!” Someone's hand rests on my uninjured shoulder and I turn to look at who it is. Edd is staring into my eyes. “Are you okay?” His voice is concerned - prey - and I look down, not wanting to see him. I realize that I’m completely frozen in the middle of the hall and some of my soldiers are giving me worried looks.

Stay strong.

Be brave.

Be anything but prey.

I lift my head up and give the soldiers a superior look. I’m better than all of them. They’re all stupid little soldiers, made to be my minions as I rise above the rest. A leader crowned in red.

Red Leader.

With this thought, I turn and stride away to my office, leaving a confused Edd to fight through the mayhem. 

The next few hours are a jumble of walking across the base again and again while checking up on progress to ensure that everything is going according to plan. The Army has been talking about this invasion plan for months, so there’s not much strategizing to be done, thank God. I do, however, have to meet with some of the higher ranking officers, mostly to go over the plan and do a quick inventory of our supplies. At some point Matt and Tom catch up to me and shoot me a few questions, but it doesn’t take long to get them doing something productive. Then Pau finds me.

“Boss, what’s the plan with ya?” 

I raise my eyebrows. “Care to elaborate?”

“Are ya gonna be fighting on the front lines, or watching from here?”

I stop walking to look at him. “I’ll be fighting, of course.”

“Yeah, but is that advisable?” His voice is quiet, but I don’t miss the way his eyes rake over my arm. “I mean, our soldiers are disposable. Ya aren’t.” 

“Oh my -”

“Actually, if ya do something with your arm, I’ll be perfectly happy letting you go.”

“Are you forgetting who the leader is here?” My voice carries a dangerous tone, which Pau immediately picks up on.

“Nah, I’m just sayin’.”

I sigh. “You know what? I’ll do something with my arm just for you to leave me the fuck alone. In fact, I’ll fucking amputate it. I’ve been meaning to do that anyways.”

Pau nods. “Okay. But -”

“No ‘but’s. You have stuff to do. Go away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, those of you that know me should by now have figured out that I /never/ research for my stories. Except for now. I’m currently spending literally hours doing research on prosthetics for Tord’s arm, which will hopefully pop up in the next chapter! 
> 
> So, when I was writing this chapter, in the last one a bunch of people seemed to like the idea of Tom, Edd, and Matt sitting down and just talking with Tord, mainly about the Army, but I figured that in reality they would be kinda...casual about the base. After all, it’s Eddsworld. I might, however, do a chapter centered around that later.
> 
> Did you guys know that this is almost 50 pages long? Y E E T !


	12. In which I make Tord suffer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have a chapter that’s pretty much f to Tord.

There’s a reason I hate making promises.

And as I lie on a cot, right arm lifted up with a tourniquet tied painfully tight around the highest part, I’m vividly reminded why.

This moment brings a new meaning to the word ‘regret’.

“Boss...ya sure about this?” Pau looks slightly pale.

Prey.

“God.” I scoff, making a conscious effort to keep some bravado in my voice. “Considering you were the one who wanted me to do this, you’re being quite the worrier.”

“Yes, I know, but…” He waves his hand around as though unsure of what he’s trying to say. “Just...the pain could kill you.”

And he had to mention death.

For a moment I feel sick because death nonononono I can’t die and then I remember where I am.

“It won’t kill me. Plenty of amputees in - I don’t know, a bunch of other wars - didn’t have any medications.

“But...I know you’re trying to help conserve supplies for tomorrow...but ya aren’t disposable.”

Ah, yes. The reason Pau’s worried.

“If I don’t want pain meds, then you’re gonna hack off my fucking arm without pain meds.”

I don’t want medications.

I want to feel everything.

I failed.

I deserve it.

Consider it my punishment.

No.

Nononono-

I DON’T WANT TO FEEL-

PAIN BURNING EXPLOSION FALLING PAIN PAIN PAIN PAINPAINPAIN-

“Do it.”

Pau looks sick. “Are ya sure that ya don’ want a medic to do -”

A flare of anger.

“I am your leader. You obey ME. DO IT.”

He nods.

And then he lifts up the saw.

And it’s against my arm.

And it’s cold.

ANd ThEn

It’s a slice of pain at first. Barely there. And I know he’s trying to be gentle and slow but oh FUCK it HURTS IT HURTS and I want it to FUCKING STOP-

“Faster -”

And he nods, green tinged on his face.

“Yessir.”

And then

Then  
Then  
Pain  
Pain  
Fire moving from my arm to my chest all the way to my toes  
Fuck it hurts  
Who’s screaming  
Tell them to stop  
Tell them to stopstopstop  
S T O P  
IT HURTS  
STOP IT IT HURTS I WANT TO DIE STOP IT STOP SCREAMING I CAN’T-

Crunch

And there’s blood splattering everywhere despite the tourniquet and a snap and another crunch and OH god

IT HURTS  
I CAN’T THINK  
CAN’T BREATH  
STOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOP-

…

…

B L A C K .

…

…

“Tord?”

My eyes flutter open.

I T ’ S T O O B R I G H T -

They snap shut again.

“Tord? Are you awake?”

This time, when I open my eyes, it’s easier, though the blinding light fries my brain for a moment. After a second, my eyes slowly begin to adjust, and I can make out a few blurry shapes above me.

“Oh, good. Commie finally joined the world of the living. Now may we kneel before our Red Leader?” Tom’s voice is dripping sarcasm but I don’t react.

“Agh...my head…” My voice trembles - prey - but it’s not my focus because OW.

My head is pounding, a deep throbbing in my temples that I can’t ignore. I sigh, moving my hands up to rub at my head-

And I stop.

WHY CAN’T I MOVE MY ARM-

I can feel it all too well but I can’t move it am I moving it it’s not doing anything WHAT-

“Wha’ happened…?”

“Uh.” Pau’s voice cuts through my thoughts and I sigh. Useless stupid soldier. 

“What. Happened.” Keeping my voice this steady sends another burst of pain through my head.

“Your arm.”

And I look down - pain - at my arm that isn’t there.

It’s gone.

Whythefuckisitgone-

A wave of nausea slams through my body, and I manage to turn my head over the side of the cot before I vomit. Pau makes a disgusted sound, and out of the corner of my eye I see him turn away.

When I’m finished making a mess of the ground, I slowly sit up. And as I sit up, I remember-

Screaming-  
Pain-  
Stop-  
Fire-

-and I close my eyes.

“Did I really cut off my fucking arm out of spite.”

“Yes you did, you petty shit.” Tom must be smiling.

“Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh this is a little short, but in the next chapter we’ll be working with Tord’s prosthetic, and I’m pretty hyped for that!


	13. His arm isn’t overpowered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angel, the heck? Two updates in just as many days?
> 
> I’m on a roll. Yes, Resurrection, I’m sorry for spamming you. Deal with it.

“So now that I cut off my fucking arm, are you actually going to let me fight?” 

I’m in my office. Pau is on the other side of my desk, awkwardly holding a red arm. Pat’s standing silently at the door, looking rather out of place. 

“Nah.” I feel like there’s an amused tinge to Pau’s voice.

“What do you mean, ‘nah’? I just cut off my fucking arm -”

“No ya didn’t. Ya sat there screaming your ass off. I cut off your arm.” Yeah, he’s enjoying this.

“Oh my God -” I put my head on the desk. Moving feels...weird. Off balance. There’s a strange, lopsided feel to my movements. Every time I do something it feels as though I’m moments away from toppling over. I had spent a bit of time in the gym earlier, to adjust to the feeling, but everything still has a surreal vibe.

“Y’know, we’ll tie ya down if we have to.” 

“No - I don’t doubt that. I just...agh.” I sigh, about to add more, but Pau cuts me off. 

“There’s one way we let ya go.” He unceremoniously drops the robot arm - too familiar red burning falling - on my desk, and for the first time, I really look at it.

“No.” I know what he wants and it won’t work not yet never-

“We - I - brought the arm to Four. They worked wonders on it.”

Oh no-

“A prosthetic could be useful in the field.”

Nonono-

“How?” I realize my voice is almost at a shout. I don’t care. “What’s it made of, Vibranium? Does it have laser cannons it it? Is it bulletproof?”

“No, yes, and yes.” Pat speaks up for the first time, sounding bored, and -

-what?-

“Wait, really?” I can’t stop my curiosity from being heard in my voice.

“Yeah. Again, Four did a pretty good job.”

“Oh.” That’s about all I can manage. Oh. Oh, something like this could work wonders. I had known that it would be powerful, even stronger than my organic arm, but this...this...this is amazing.

I feel a flash of jealousy. Could I have done this well on the arm? The feeling disappears rapidly, though. Of course I could. I’m smarter faster stronger not prey-

“Yeah. We have to calibrate it to fit you, though, as well as implant a chip in your brain so you can control it with your mind.” The amusement is back in Pau’s voice, and I can tell he liked my reaction.

“Y-yeah… alright…” A smile works its way on my face, and I don’t even chastise myself for being prey.

Power.

Strength.

Everything I need to take over the world.

“So, what do we need to do?”

——

I’ve lost all track of time.

We have less than 5 hours before we need to leave.

In hindsight, telling an entire army that we were going to take over a city the day before we had too wasn’t wise, but the Red Army is capable.

I also probably should have slept more. Four hours of sleep during surgery is enough, right?

“Red?” Ah, speaking of the surgery.

“You know, it’s your own fault for leaving the arm in the medic’s bay.” My voice is cold, emotionless. Sure, I had slipped up during the amputation and when I was showed the arm, but I’m in control now.

I have to be in control.

“Yessir, I know. Sit down.” Pau waves the arm around haphazardly, motioning to the (bloody who’s screaming stopstopstop) cot. 

I sit down.

I shouldn’t take orders from my lessers.

I have to.

Not in control-

DEEP BREATHS.

I inhale. And exhale. Ane breath in. And out. In. Out. In. Out.

I’m okay.

I’m in the base.

A small part of my brain whispers that even the base isn’t perfectly safe, but I stomp it out.

“Okay, boss, we just have to…” Pau trails off, setting down the arm, and pulling some sort of lotion out of buttfuck nowhere. He rubs it on what’s left of my arm, and I hiss as it comes in contact with my burns. “Shit, I’m sorry, you just really - HOLD STILL, DAMNIT!”

I twist away, knocking the bottle out of his hands. “Just - just put on the fucking arm -”

“Okay.” He lines the arm up to my stump. “This might hurt a bit.”

Hurt a bit.

Pain.

WAIT WHAT-

And he pushes it against my arm and pushes a button and claws are in my skin painpainpain-

And then it stops. 

“Okay,” Pau repeats. “That’s done. Try to move it.”

I nod, breathing heavily.

And then I sit up.

And ow-

“I-it’s heavy…” I wince. 

“Yeah, a just gonna have to deal with it. Sorry.” Pau doesn’t sound sorry at all. “Now stop whining and try to move it.”

I nod.

And concentrate.

And wiggle my middle finger at him.

“Damnit, boss - agh. Okay, so here are the capabilities. The four fingers move individually,” He nods at me and I move each of them. “While the thumb has three main grip positions. Four called them something along the lines of ‘index card’, ‘bottle’, and there was one more that I forgot. Four said ya’d be able to figure ‘em out. Now, there’s also a customized grip for holding and firing a pistol. You’ll want to work on that later. The wrist can’t bend, but it can swivel. Apparently there was some trouble with the elbow joint, so you’ll want to let Four know if there are any problems.”

“Wow. That was quite the monologue.” I pause, trying to take in the new information.

“So, why don’t ya try some of it?”

“Yeah, yeah. One second. You mentioned a laser cannon…?”

“Yes, I did.” Pau grins. “Think laser-y thoughts. And don’t use it indoors. The blast comes out of the palm. Also, it’s bulletproof but not laser-proof. Don’t fuck up.”

“Oh, I will.” I raise my eyebrows, swiveling my new mechanical wrist.

“That...isn’t reassuring.” Pau pauses to take a breath before continuing his lecture. “The arm also isn’t waterproof. If you need to, there’s a fingerprint sensor combined with a button calibrated to your left index finger fingerprint that will detach the arm. I think that’s everything.”

“Wow. That’s...a lot to remember.” I blink. Prey.

“Nah, boss, I’m sure that ya gonna get the hang of it. Eventually.”

——

Needless to say, the arm is taking quite a bit of getting used to. I went down to the shooting range to work on the shooting grips, which took some trial and error to figure out. It’s a bit of a hindrance not being able to move my wrist beyond rotating it, but it isn’t as hard to work with as I had thought. Obviously, the limited grip patterns for my thumb have also been frustrating, as it’s difficult to pick up and light cigars with it.

I have...mixed emotions over it. I had thought - hoped - that the arm would be fully functioning. Guess not. It is, however, incredibly strong (There’s an imprint of a hand on my office’s now-crushed doorknob). I can climb rope with it the hand, and there are touch sensors on the fingertips and palm.

Part of me hates it.

It’s a part of me now. My worst failure - attached to me. It’s also so shiny that it’s impossible not to look at. Fucking flashy. Worst of all, it makes me look weak.

Part of me loves it.

It’s incredibly strong. It’s bulletproof. It has a fucking laser cannon - which has absolutely nothing to do with the giant hole in Pat’s office wall, no, nothing at all - that can blow up walls.

Although waiting for it to charge is a pain in the ass. It would be easier if Pat wasn’t always charging one of his six odd phones.

And part of me hates myself for thinking about my robot arm when in about four hours we leave to take over London.

Shit.

London.

I forgot-

When I made my speech, I forgot about-

I sprint from the training room I was in, slowing down to a fast walk through the rest of the base. I reach a heavy pair of steel doors, and push the button that operates the door.

Kah-runch-sssssssss…

Shit. We’ll have to get that fixed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...haha...I know jack about medical stuff. I have no idea how realistic any of this is.
> 
> On another note, Tord x Robot Arm is canon now!
> 
> (RIP TomTord)
> 
> ((I’m kidding))
> 
> (((Maybe...)))


	14. Strange things did happen here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many of you got the reference in the chapter title?

I walk inside the room, giving its contents a once-over. The lights are dim, and it takes my eyes a long moment to adjust. On one wall is a huge rack, completely loaded with ammo, guns, and in one corner, a bazooka with Pat’s name on it. On the other wall, though...on the other wall cages are lined up. Inside the cages…

...Failed experiments.

I look them up and down. By each of the cages there is a number. #1863, #1864, #1865, #1868...going on and on into the depths of the room. Inside the cages, though…

I don’t want to think about it, but I have to. I’ve pushed this off long enough.

Inside the cages are monsters. The experiment nearest me, #1863, has eight eyes on its face, all bright red. Its body is long, almost snakelike, and a strange yellow color. There’s patchy fur covering it, and a mane around its face. There’s also a chain around it’s left back leg.

The frightening part is it’s face. Inhuman, with a distinct rage. No matter how furious the face looks, however, it’s stupid. 

When we had been attempting to work with the DNA, the brain had mutated, making it dumb.

I shiver.

None of the other beasts are much better off. One is a strange pile of goo, one has partially disintegrated, and one is trying to eat itself.

The failed attempts at DNA cross-experimentation are failures for a reason, after all.

I walk down the row of cages, trying not to look at any of them. At this point, I’ll easily admit without even thinking the word ‘prey’ that these beasts terrify me. They terrify everyone. They terrified the old Red Leader. They terrified young recruits - 

-don’t even think about it-

-screaming-

-growling-

-blood-

I shake my head. I can’t talk, I had used the same method of punishment when I first rose to power. It was efficient, it worked, and it made recruits that much stronger.

I’ve reached the end of the first row of cages, and I’m standing directly across from #140. There are thousands of other cages, but they’re all empty.

Another thing I don’t want to think about.

I look in the last cage, and a cold smile slowly slips onto my face. I pull out a shiny silver key, and slip it into the lock.

“Well, well well. Look who finally showed up.” The experiment’s voice is dark, angry.

I give a slight laugh.

“It’s nice to see you too, Dazeem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we figured out what Tofd forgot! A bunch of people seemed to think he had forgotten about Edd and the gang...that too. I’m sorry this was such a short chapter, I really like that cutoff.
> 
> Hmmm, I wonder what he’s going to do with Daisy?
> 
> Comments are always appreciated!


	15. Tord infringes on copyright

“You could have done me the courtesy of showing up on time.”

“I’m sorry I that I have more important things to do than make deals with psychotic genie-demon hybrid escapees.” I roll my eyes.

“Well, you look like crap. I told you that it would have been a good idea to sign that contract.”

“For the last time, I’m not selling my soul!”

“Not that you have much of one,” He mutters, shooting me a toothy grin.

“You should be glad that I’m agreeing to this in the first place.”

“Hey, if your hadn’t dragged me back to this hellhole we wouldn’t be having this discussion. It’s technically your fault.”

I sigh. Dazeem is the most frustrating...thing...to deal with I’ve ever met. He’s even more annoying than Tom. “Just...shut up so we can work.”

“Gladly.” The grin remains on his face, but he stays quiet after that.

“Good. Now, the terms -”

“- Let me go and then we’ll talk.”

“Not happening.”

“Then go away.”

“THE TERMS!” Dazeem shuts his mouth, giving me a strange look. “Okay. So, you’re the dimension hopping demon.”

“Obviously.”

“I am aware.” I pause, trying not to lose my patience with the hybrid. I open my mouth to ask my question, but pause.

Why would I release him so he could make the wounds from the robot disappear, if…

Edd.

Right.

I could stop it from happening. 

I could still have the robot.

“Could you make me a time machine?” My voice is surprisingly quiet, and I can’t really believe what I’m doing.

“Hah! I am the great Dazeem! I can do anything!”

“Except for escape your cell.”

“Shut up.” I snigger at his reaction. “Of course I can make a time machine!”

“So, do we have a deal? I’ll let you go if you make me a time machine?” 

Dazeem sticks his hand through the cell’s bars. “Ye -”

“Woah, woah, woah. You don’t think I’m going to give you that many opportunities for loopholes? You’re Dazeem. Only existing Demon-Genie hybrid. If you get an opportunity to screw me over, you will.” 

Dazeem scoffs. “I’d never do that.”

“You would. So, here are the rules. When I let you out, you immediately go to another dimension and never bother me again. The time machine will not have any strings attached either. It will be able to take me back in time, to a period where I already exist, without wiping me out of existence.”

“If an idiot like you shoots your past self, I can’t help you.”

“Yes, I’m aware.” I take a deep breath. “I would also be able to change the past, and then go back to the future while remembering that I changed the past.”

“Hoo boy, that’s a lot. I can make it work, though.” Dazeem smiles again, his pointed teeth gleaming.

I stick my robotic hand through the bar, and he looks at it. “It has to be your flesh hand,” Says Dazeem, rolling his eyes. My face flushes red, and he sniggers. I quickly withdraw my hand, but I misjudge and it hits the cell with a clang of metal. At this, Dazeem bursts out laughing, and something down the row roars. I shush him.

“Okay.” I slip my left hand through the bars, and he grabs it firmly. “Time machine, no strings attached, and you go to another dimension.”

“Yep!” And he shakes my hand-

SPARKS FLY

The room around me whirls and tilts and changes and then with a poof Dazeem is floating right next to me and he tries to pass something to me but I’m so fucking dizzy-

“Jesus Christ, just take it.” He shoves the object at me, and the moment I’m holding it he vanishes.

“Nice seeing you again, too,” I mutter to thin air. I then take a moment to look at the thing he passed me. It’s strange, grey, with yellow keys, a black screen, and a large red button.

Huh.

I fiddle with the buttons, jumping slightly when it turns on with a whir. Green letters appear on the black screen.

((place)) ((day)) ((month)) ((year))

I run my hands over the device almost reverently, slowly pushing buttons.

((London, England)) ((9)) ((March)) ((2016))

I almost press the red button, but I stop. I flick a switch on the side, and turn it off. I don’t really want to leave. Not yet. I want to tell Pat and Pau where I’m going first. Theoretically, I could just show back up seconds after I left, but I really don’t want to leave that to chance.

I walk down the hall, now able to ignore the growls and moans from the beasts in the cage. There’s a strange, lifted feeling in the pit of my stomach. I suppose that it’s most likely some sort of relief, or excitement.

I could fix all of this.

I could get the robot back.

I could get back the six million Euros.

I’d be unscarred.

Alright.

With that sort of power, I could do anything.

I could take over the world in a matter of days.

I could do it all.

There’s a moment of hesitation on my part upon seeing the ruined button operating the door, but I wave it off. I’ll get someone to fix it later. That’s not my priority right now.

I trot through the base, feeling better than I have in a long time. My movement is still slightly lopsided from the heavy arm, but even that can’t stop my happiness. For a moment, I think ‘prey’, but I shrug the thought off.

“Boss!” Pau’s running at me. “Where’d ya go? The base has been looking for ya for ages!”

I shake my head. “I haven’t been gone that long.”

“Still! I don’t - what’s that?” He’s apparently seen the time machine.

“What? Ah, right.” I give him a small smile. “This, my friend, is a time machine.”

“I think I know what ya wanna do, and it’s a really fuckin’ stupid idea.” Pau shakes his head.

“Oh, fuck you. It’ll work.”

“Uh, no it won’t.”

“Yes.”

“Nah.”

I realize that my robotic arm is gripping the time machine with enough force to leave a dent. “Just...let me do this.”

“If ya wanna die, go ahead.”

“Jesus. Your confidence in me is always inspiring.” At this, Pau nudges me, scoffing quietly.

“Fine. Go die and leave your army without a leader.”

Death-

-I can’t die-

-the Army would fall-

-I shake my head. I will survive.

“Okay. Thanks. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

Pau sighs and walks away. I grin, walking to my office. It takes a moment to fiddle the ruined doorknob open, but once inside I close the door and sit on a chair. 

Apprehension runs through me, and I feel a thrill. 

I could change the past.

I could do anything.

I flick the machine on, and it whirrs.

((London, England)) ((9)) ((March)) ((2016))

I pause, looking at the date. I’ve set the machine to take me to the day that I first confronted Tom and the others again, but is that really wise?

((London, England)) ((1)) ((March)) ((2016))

There. That should give me enough time to work through any problems. I reach toward the red button with my robotic arm, although I have to adjust the position of my body so I can actually reach it. Damn the stupid wrist.

Just push it.

I can’t-

Red-

My robot fist slams down on the button with a loud crunch, and I gasp.

Sparks fly-

-and the door opens.

“Commie? The fuck are you doing?”

“GET OUT!” 

Tom nods, and leaves.

Or he tries to.

He fiddles with the door as sparks continue to fly from the device, looking pale. “IT WON’T OPEN!”

Shit.

The crushed doorknob.

It must have jammed.

I curse, trying to turn the machine off. I repeatedly click the off button.

It doesn’t work.

“Hide under the desk!” I yell at Tom, who quickly complies.

White light fills the room-

-twisting swaying where’s the floor-

-pinching my chest can’t breath-

-in the robot-

And then the sounds stops and the light disappears.

“Commie, what the fuck did you do?”

“I made a deal with the devil.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many of you figured out Dazeem’s backstory? I might make a oneshit for it :)


	16. And at that moment he knew...

“Where are we?” 

Tom looks as though he can’t decide if he wants to be furious or terrified.

“London.” I keep my voice blank. Under most circumstances if I was just with Tom I’d try to put some sort of emotion in my voice, but right now I couldn’t care less.

“HOW THE - you know what? I’m going to try to be a civilized person. Why the hell are we in London?”

I hold up the steaming remains of the time machine. “I told you. I made a deal with the devil. Not the literal devil, an experiment gone wrong.”

Tom looks like he wants to kill me. “And what, pray tell, did you do in the deal?”

My face flushes. “It’s a time machine. If I’m correct, this is March first.”

“Wasn’t a time machine Edd’s idea? Oh my God. I don’t even want to know.”

“I’m going to try to see if I can find out our exact location,” I say, choosing to ignore Tom. “You can follow me. Or not. I don’t really care.” I begin to walk off, a bit surprised to see Tom follow me.

“HJELP MEG!”

I whirl around at the words. 

“NOEN! HJELP!”

The screaming is coming from an alley.

“Wha-?” Tom looks confused.

“Hvor er du?” I call, barely registering the different language.

“HER! Nei, gå av! HJELP MEG!” The screaming is terrified, and I assume whoever it is is only a child. 

“What’s he saying?” Tom grabs my coat, looking disturbed. I shake him off.

“Ahaha...I don’t think we’re in England.”

“No shit, commie. I noticed. Are we gonna do something about the kid screaming for help or not?”

“Not my problem.”

“Fair point. Let’s go the other way.”

As we walk down the abandoned streets, the screaming fades. Thank God, the blatant display of emotions was beginning to get on my nerves. The kid was acting like prey to the tenth power.

“HEI! STOPP!” 

I turn around to see three men running towards us. One has a kid flung over his shoulder, and I assume that these are the kid’s attackers.

As they get closer, I see their blue coats.

Fuck.

“Run!” I yell at Tom before sprinting off, the latter close on my heels.

“Stopp eller vi skyte!” I glance back to see one of the Red soldiers pulling out a gun. 

“Tom, stop.” I slow down, Tom doing the same though he looks disgruntled. 

“Why’d we stop?”

“They’d shoot us.”

“Oh.”

“Hei! Hva er du driver med her?” The man has a sharp, cold voice. The Red Army trained him well.

“Vi var gå,” I respond coolly.

“Den røde hæren krever at du slutter.”

“Oh my God. I’m so confused,” Tom butts in.

“Oh, you speak English?” The man who did the speaking sounds surprised.

“Yes, obviously,” I retort.

The man carrying the kid mutters something to the speaker, who nods. 

“We require you to come with us. We cannot allow people who’ve seen our operations to remain free.”

I nod. It’s standard protocol to take in possible spies. We train them while determining if they’re trustworthy.

Shit.

Training.

The third person, a woman, snaps a quick “Følg oss,” At me before walking off. The other two - according to their name tags, Jim and Lucas - flank us, pulling handcuffs out of buttfuck nowhere and cuffing our wrists. Jim coughs slightly upon seeing my prosthetic.

After a bit of walking, we reach a helicopter with the Army logo on it. If I remember correctly, it’s a 2013 model.

Wait, what? 

All of the 2013 models were discarded in December.

If the machine’s location could fuck up…

“What year is it?”

Jim gives me a strange look. “It’s the first of March. 2014.”

2014.

Three years-

The machine fucked up my three years-

-all of my progress-

Gone.

Tom chokes. “2014?” 

“Yes. Did you not know that…?”

“Hah! I’m sorry. My friend here is playing a joke!” I clap Tom on the back, giving him a look. “He is quite the prankster. Of course we know the year!”

“Ok da,” Mutters Jim, shrugging.

“Her vi er!” The girl, Tanya, stands up as the helicopter touches down. 

“You come with us.” Jim picks up the kid, who is awake and looking frightened. Tom and I stand up and follow the three, despite the fact that I have the base layout memorized.

After a few minutes, we’re lead into what I know is the recruitment room. “You are lucky. Today we have many others to teach with you,” Says Jim. “In fact, today is the first day our Red Leader supervises recruits.

Oh.

Of all the horrible days to arrive.

Not only will we have to go through the Army’s brutal training system, we’ll be watched by Red Leader.

Me.

We’ve lined up in the center of the room with five other people.

I know them.

Larissa and Emi are the two girls. The other guys are Chris, Sam, and Will, who’s real name is William.

Why does Chris look weirdly familiar? Of course I know him, I trained him, but…

Of course.

Chris.

Christian.

Christian Harris, to be exact.

The policeman.

What happened to him?

I’m whipped out of my thoughts by an all too familiar figure walking into the room.

“My name is Pau, and I am the second in command to the Red Army.” I can barely hear his accent. It’s amazing how he shapes up when he’s in front of a crowd. “I usually train new recruits, but for ya worthless shits, Red Leader himself will be training you. We do, however, have a few things to do before the only capable person in this place shows up.”

I feel a glow of pride at his words. I know that Pau respects me, but his words still make me feel good.

“Here at the Army, we take deserters very seriously. To reduce this, ya will all be branded with your name and a unique identification number. If ya try to run, we will find ya, and we will kill ya. Now, if you’ll come over here for a bit.”

The other six people hurriedly line up, although I take my time. After all, I already have a Red brand. It probably wouldn’t be very good if Pau saw some random guy with his precious Red Leader’s name and ID on it.

The hate I feel towards Red Leader surprises me. After all, he is me. I just can’t help it though. Thinking about him, though...I don’t want to see him, new and young and perfect.

In front of me, Chris hisses in pain as he’s branded, and the line moves forward.

I have to think.

They can’t see my brand.

In all honesty, I’m shocked they didn’t catch my uniform. Luckily, my name tag and fallen off when we were running from Jim, Tanya, and Lucas.

I have to do something.

I have to do something, so I turn around and sock Tom in the face.

“Ow! Jesus Christ!” Tom stumbles back, running into Emi, who hisses at him in German. “What the fuck?” I ignore him, smashing my left fist into his face. Fighting is weird, without full functionality in my right arm. 

“Hey!” Pau jogs over, trying to break up the ‘fight’, but I ignore him, kicking Tom in the gut. He wheezes, swinging a clumsy punch in my direction that I easily block, before tackling him.

Blood spurts from his nose for the second time in as many days as I repeatedly kick and punch him, although I’m careful not to do any damage.

“Oh, very good form. Quite impressive.” At this all too familiar voice, I step off of Tom, smoothing my uniform. 

There he is.

There I am.

God, it’s like looking in a mirror.

“Thank you, sir.” I keep my voice even, cool. I make no attempt to slip an emotion in my voice or on my face. I know exactly what to say, what to do. After all, he’s me.

And yet there’s that pulsing anger in the pit of my stomach from looking at him.

“Now!” I-he-Red claps his hands, grinning disconcertingly. “You are all worthless little fuckers. The only way you will actually get anywhere in life is through the Red Army, so congratulations. You’re one step towards greatness. Now, there’s a high probability that you will die during training. If you do, you were to weak to be a part of this army, and we’re better off without you.” The grin drops from his face. “Now, there is something I want to make clear.”

Here it is.

Don’t be prey.

Dominate.

Be strong.

“In this army,” Red continues, “I do not tolerate weakness. We reward strength, but the only way to be strong is by being the top predator.” He begins to pace, eyeing each of us. God I wanna punch him. “So, your first lesson. Don’t be prey. That is the my term for showing weakness such as sadness, happiness, fear, frustration, etcetera. Punishments for ‘prey’ behavior is...severe.” He pauses.

Tom gives me a strange look, somewhere between amusement and fear. 

“Alright,” Says Pau, taking over in the slightly awkward silence. “We’ll be doing a short assessment of ya skills - not so say ya have many. First off, shooting with a pistol.”

I’ve got this.

I can do this.

I can dominate. 

Rise up to the occasion.

Be strong.

Be a leader in Red.

William is the first to step up, taking the gun offered to him. He fiddles with the safety for a moment before he figures it out. Red Leader scoffs slightly, turning away and rage bubbles back up in my stomach.

I hate him.

I’m distracted from my thoughts from a bang. Will had pulled the trigger, his shot barely skimming the edge of the target.

Pathetic.

I step up. Tom makes a small noise of surprise behind me, but I shake my head. Pau gives my arm a strange look, hesitantly handing me another pistol, which I snatch. He moves as though he wants to help me load it, but it only takes me a moment before I’ve settled in a shooting stance, holding the gun in my left hand. The weight of it is familiar, soothing, and I have to fight a smile from showing on my face.

I pull the trigger.

Perfect shot.

Like usual.

I casually drop the still-loaded gun in a flabbergasted Pau’s hands before turning to look at Red Leader. While his - my - face is stoic, I know those features well enough to register the look in his eye, the way his face moves. 

He’s impressed.

Impressing myself shouldn’t make me feel so good, but at what I know is shock on his face the anger in the pit of my stomach turns into a light, bubbly feeling.

Strange.

The rest of the day goes by quickly. We finish up shooting (Tom is the only other person to hit the target, oddly enough). We also do some hand-to-hand combat, which I don’t do as well as I would have liked on. I overbalanced while kicking Pau due to my arm. We also do a few laps around the track, but that doesn’t take long.

At eight o’clock the seven of us soldiers are in a dorm with beds that are more cots than anything lined up against the wall. Somehow, Tom ended up in the bed next to mine, which I have...mixed feelings...about. There’s also the problem mainly involving Christian, future policeman asshole, who’s on my other side. For some reason, though, even though when I think about Chris’ future self, I feel a burning hatred, but Chris is just so...lovable. He’s innocent, gangly, and cheerful. There’s nothing to hate about him.

“Hey. Hey, commie.” 

I jump slightly from the whisper in my ear. Tom has migrated over to my bed, and is sitting on the side. 

“Jehovah, what are you doing here?” 

Tom shushes me. “We need to talk.”

“Of course we do. Listen, I’m sorry -”

“ -It isn’t about that. I mean, that sucks, but there’s jack we can do about that now. We need to talk about our strategy.”

“Our what?”

“You can’t just over perform and be perfect at everything.”

“Why ever not?”

“They’ll suspect something’s up. I mean, you can do your fancy combat shit, but there’s gotta be something you suck at.”

“Oh my God, fine. But, while we’re talking strategy...we have to work our way up the ranks as fast as we can.”

“What? Why?”

“Trust me. I - he- RED doesn’t take kindly to his underlings. He deals with us now, but give him a month and we’ll be boring.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

I scoff. “If we’re boring, we’ll find ourselves as target practice for the next round of newbies.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, it’s not optimal.”

“One question, commie?”

“Go ahead.”

“Why did you punch me?”

I almost laugh. I had almost forgotten about that. “Did you get a brand?”

“Yeah.”

“I have one too. I think it would be a bit weird if some guy showed up with Red Leader’s ID?”

“Oh - it was a distraction?”

I nod, although I know Tom can hardly see me. “Yeah.”

“That’s actually pretty smart.” Tom sound impressed as he stands up, walking to his own bed.

“‘Night, Jehovah.”

“Ditto, commie.”


	17. Keep calm and carry on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!

“Y’all need to wake the fuck up!”

I blink, having forgotten about the Red Army’s brilliant way of getting people up and out of bed. Sure enough, there’s...me...with a bullhorn.

“Nein, ich denken nicht,” Mutters Emi sleepily, and which said bullhorn is thrown at her. 

I look around. There’s an overwhelming sense of déjà vu as I take in familiar surroundings. All of the Army’s dorm rooms look exactly the same, so if I didn’t know better, I’m ten years younger.

Then I sit up, and my right arm is too heavy, and my burns twinge, and Tom mutters a tired curse from the bed next to me, and I know better.

I shove the covers off of me, knowing that my - Red Leader’s. God it’s weird calling someone by your title - eyes have widened slightly at my wounds and prosthetic. Sure he saw them yesterday, but yesterday I was wearing a Red uniform that covered the worst of the burns.

I really want to punch him in the face.

“Oi, get up!” This time, it isn’t Red Leader yelling, and I look to the door to see Pau. “Everyone, out of bed! Ten seconds!” 

At Pau’s words, there’s a flurry of movement, and I feel a sort of pleasure. Sure, I should be furious that the soldiers are openly disobeying their Red Leader - me, but I also know that Red Leader’s pride has taken a blow.

I grin, standing up and lazily raising my hand to my head in a salute - 

-and I stop.

The arm clicks slightly as it stops moving, and I frown, lowering it again.

Well, shit.

The small bar on the forearm is red.

Low fucking battery.

Well, that’s superb.

I reach to the shoulder, pushing the button, which beeps slightly. 

And then -

Painstabagony-

Claws let go stopstopstop-

And the arm releases from my shoulder with a click.

I realize there are tears running down my face, and I glance down.

Prey.

Weak.

Showemotionsdon’t-

He’s standing right there.

And by ‘he’, I mean ‘me’.

“Excuse me, soldat, do you remember the first thing we learned yesterday?” Red Leader’s voice is cold, and it sends a shiver down my back. 

“Don’t be prey. Take advantage of prey. Be the hunter. No. Matter. What.” My voice is equally blank, although I let my accent swamp my voice. We can’t have him becoming suspicious.

“Excellent. For such a wonderful response, I’ll go easy on you.” His voice is smooth as silk, and his face doesn’t betray any emotion.

I HATE IT.

I stand up, tears drying on my face as I look Red Leader in the eyes. He stares back, looking as blank as a shark.

Then his fist crashes into my face.

This isn’t a rare punishment for ‘newbies’. I’ve certainly been decked many times in my training. Red Leader just forgot one thing. Then again, he never really knew it.

I’m not a ‘newbie’.

I whirl around, grabbing Red’s collar in kneeing him in the crotch. He drops to the floor with a pained groan, but I don’t stop. Knowing Red Leader, it’s some sort of trick. I try to jump on him, but the loss of my arm overbalanced me, and I topple to the side. From behind me, Tom snorts, and heat spreads over my face. After all, I’ve only trained with the robot arm, and that’s laying abandoned on my bed.

I’m quickly whipped out of my thoughts by Red Leader flipping our positions so he’s in a position on top of me. His fists slam repeatedly into my face and chest, sending bursts of pain through my body. I do my best to block them, but every time I attempt to use my right arm to block his punches nothing happens.

Part of me wants to resign myself to my fate of being beaten up until Red Leader gets bored.

Another part would rather die then let him defeat me.

I want to win.

I want to win, so I do.

It’s that simple.

I don’t really notice what’s going on. All I can register in my pain-addled mind is that somehow I’ve wiggled out of Red Leader’s grasp and my knee is smashing into his nose and he yells falling backwards and finally Pau manages to pull me away from Red Leader and Tom yells something at me but my vision is fuzzy and-

-and-

-I fall backwards, landing in a pair of warm arms.

——

“...Tord! Tord, wake up!”

I open my eyes.

“OhthankJehovahyou’reawake-” babbles Tom.

“Fuck, my head hurts.” I sit up, choking back a cry as pain shoots through my chest.

“Oh. Yeah, Red Leader’s pretty mad at you.” He pauses. “I would’ve thought that you two would have, like, loved each other-” a burst of strange anger bursts through me at this “-but I think he hates you.” 

“Really,” I say sarcastically. “What gave you that idea?”

“The fact that, according to Pau, you’re the only person in years to land a punch on him. Knowing you, your ego is bigger than Matt’s-”

“Hey!”

“-and you wouldn’t take kindly from being beaten up my a scarred amputee with weird skills.”

“I’m him with three-odd years of experience. He shouldn’t be surprised that I kicked his ass.”

Tom grins slightly. “He doesn’t know, remember?” I’m about to respond, but he adds, “Speaking of Red Leader, he made sure to tell me to tell you that, and I quote, ‘no matter how horrible Tord feels, he’s going to get his ass out of the infirmary and into training’.”

“Jeez. That’s nice of him.”

“He’s kind of a douche.” Tom gives me a look, and I respond by slapping an ‘indigent’ look onto my face.

“I could take that very personally.” It takes a bit of effort to put emotion into my voice. After all, I’ve spent so much time trying to act emotionless since my return to my base (in my time period) that I’m a bit out of practice.

“Nah, you won’t. Now, I would advise ‘getting your ass out of the infirmary and into training’ before the egotistical douche himself shows up.”

“The ‘egotistical douche himself’ is sitting right here.”

“That isn’t true.” I’m shocked by how emotionally charged Tom’s voice is as he looks me in the eye, having changed from a joking asshole to someone who knows exactly who they are and what they want to say in the span of a few seconds. “He isn’t you. Maybe he was once, but you’ve changed. He’ll change.”

“Maybe not for the better,” I mutter, left arm going to the empty space that was once my right.

“Tord, Red Leader, whatever the fuck you want to call yourself, stop it. You’re better than he is. I don’t want to hear you say shit like that again.”

“Oh…”

That’s all I can think to say.

There’s a strange feeling in my chest from the attention Tom gives me. I don’t know what it is, but frankly, I hate it.

It makes me feel weak.

It makes me feel like prey.

I hate it, so I turn away, and I scoff, and I pretend not to see the way that Tom’s face falls slightly.

He wears his emotions on his sleeve, and I hate that too.

“We...um, we should probably go.” His voice is flat, his head tilted ever so slightly down.

It makes me feel powerful, and that is an emotion I’ll welcome.

“Yes, Thomas. Have you seen my arm?”

I don’t know why I’ve reverted back to calling him Thomas. All I can say is that it feels right. It sends that ripple of emotion down Tom’s - Thomas’ face, and that makes me feel strong.

“Yeah, it’s right here. I charged it.” Thomas passes me the red arm. His voice lacks the emotions I’m so used to hearing in his voice, and I realize that he must have made an effort to keep his tone blank.

“Thank you.” I keep my attitude professional. No matter how far I’ve slipped since seeing him again, I can make my way to where I was before The End.

Strong.

Powerful.

A Red Leader.

And I stand up, swaying slightly from loss of balance, and leave the room.

I leave Thomas behind.

——

“Well, look who finally decided to show up.” As I walk into the training room, Red Leader gives me a sardonic salute. I ignore him and walk to the center of the room where the others are. Behind me, Thomas enters quietly, avoiding Red Leader’s gaze.

“I’m sorry I’m late, sir.” I don’t let even the tiniest hint of emotion slip into my voice or onto my face, not wanting Red Leader to show me his ‘wrath’.

I must say, I was a little surprised when he had decided to punish me by hurting me. I would have thought that he would have wanted to send me to the DNA cross-experimentation room, but I suppose that he would want to save that particular punishment for a later date.

“Oh, and Thomas showed up too. Wonderful.” Red Leader’s voice practically oozes sarcasm, although him addressing Thomas also leaves me a bit surprised. If I were him then, I probably would have given Thomas a good beating before wiping his memory and leaving him to rot in the snow. This Red Leader, however, had remained perfectly calm, albeit a little surprised, upon seeing Thomas clearly for the first time.

His reaction to seeing Thomas had rekindled that burning hate in the pit of my stomach. He had somehow been able to stay so...strong. Although, I would be lying if I said that I didn’t enjoy seeing his black eye.

I did that to him.

I take a deep breath, pushing these thoughts away. It wouldn’t be good to have my head in the clouds throughout training. As I had told Thomas last night, I need to climb the ranks in order to keep Red Leader’s attention.

“Well, now that we’re all here, we can actually get started. What a miracle.” Red Leader walks to the rack of guns, casually picking up a rifle. M16, to be exact. An upgraded version. I have the original prototype in my office. “Now, we assessed your skills with a pistol yesterday. Some of you did decent. Most of you were abysmal.” He gives Chris a glance at this. “Today we will be focusing our efforts on shooting with rifles, as well as delving into a bit of hand to hand combat. That is, most of you.” Red Leader narrows his eyes at me. “Some of you can not be trusted with that sort of thing.”

Next to me, Thomas shifts. There’s a part of me that wants to give him a look, that wants to laugh about it with him. There’s another part that whispers ‘prey’ in the back of my mind.

I don’t look at him.

I stay facing forward, looking at Red Leader.

I don’t want to see Thomas’ face.

When Red Leader passes us all rifles and tells us to go stand by a target, I make sure I’m on the other side of the room from Thomas. There’s a flash of realization in Red Leader’s eyes, and I can tell he’s putting together everything he knows about the relationship between Thomas and I.

I turn away, putting all of my attention on the M16. The way I grasp it is slightly awkward from my prosthetic, and I wonder if Four actually remembered to make a grip customized for rifles.

“Alright!” Red Leader paces in front of the targets. For a moment I question his sanity, before remembering the pistol I used to keep in my pocket at all times. “Never assume your guns are unloaded. For all you know, I gave you all loaded rifles.” I’ve already checked this; I know mine’s unloaded. “Always act like your rifle is loaded. Secondly, keep the firearm pointed in a safe direction. In most cases, it would be best to point it downrange. I’d prefer if you wouldn’t do that for obvious reasons. In an actual fight, like a battle, obviously you can point the gun wherever you want as long as it isn’t at your commanding officer.”

“Now, for your stance.” I jump slightly at Pau’s voice before reminding myself not to act like prey. But seriously, when did he get in here? “Now, a lot of people seem to assume that it’s a good idea to stand like this.” Pau shifts, moving into a stance that mainly involves him standing slightly sideways. “That stance is bullshit. We’d prefer if you were to stand with your shoulders and hips square -”

“- like this.” Butts in Red Leader, glaring at Pau as he grabs the rifle and moves into the correct position. “This stance is better for hitting moving targets, as well as absorbing shock.” He walks over to us, hefting the rifle and pulling the trigger. There’s a bang, and when everyone looks at the target, it’s a perfect shot.

Of course it is.

The moment Red Leader’s out of the range, giving instructions and shifting people’s stances around, I fire.

Again.

And again.

It’s a strange grip. I have to shift my left arm in an almost unnatural way in order to squeeze the trigger with the prosthetic, and when I look at the target, I can see the red arm’s influence. While all of the shots hit the target, none of them were dead center.

I look up, suddenly self conscious. There’s an eerie silence. Pau’s eyebrows are raised, and Emi gives me a subtle nod. Chris and most of the others have dropped jaws.

I don’t want the attention.

At least, not right now.

I don’t want them to see my imperfect shots, to praise me when I can do better.

I want them to see what I can really do.

As if in a dream, I reload the rifle, this time adjusting my grip so the butt of the rifle is nestled against my shoulder and my left arm doesn’t stick out at an odd angle. It’s a weird grip, but the M16 feels much more stable in my grasp.

I squeeze the trigger.

While the shot isn’t quite as good as Red Leader’s was, it’s close.

Then I look at the other targets.

I was the only person to hit one.

This time, I allow myself to soak up the praise.

Respect me.

Fear me.

I am the true Red Leader.

The man wearing my uniform knows nothing.

I ignore the eyes on me and fire again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tord will suffer. Tord will burn.
> 
> If you comment what you think about this chapter I will love you forever <3


	18. That, my friend, is a terrible idea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live

The next few hours go by quickly. By the end of out shooting session, everybody but Sam and Larissa have hit the targets at least once, and Thomas hits the target almost half of the time. It’s impressive. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised; after all, Thomas had previously joined the British army. I guess it was only a matter of time before the skills he learned there would come back.

The hand-to-hand combat introduction had been...interesting. Red Leader, true to his word, had made me practice punches on a punching bag while everyone else got to spar. ‘Luckily’, I had gotten to watch Larissa, who is hopeless with a gun but apparently a red belt in taekwondo, beat Thomas, Sam, and Emi up. 

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t snort at Larissa jabbing her hand into Thomas’ kidneys, the latter falling to the mat.

Hey, it was funny.

All too quickly, though, Thomas is helped off of the sparring mat and the seven of us are shuttled into the mess hall, which is almost exactly how I remember it. 

Loud enough to break my eardrums, with at least two people in some sort of a fight.

We find our seats, everyone but me, Thomas, and Larissa (who seems to have gained a sudden burst of confidence after her debut) glancing around nervously. The room quiets a bit at our entrance, but for the most part the only change is Pat giving us sarcastic applause, although his face changes slightly. I doubt that he’s actually recognized me; he’s likely experiencing some form of déjà vu. 

While the room is filled with noise, our table is immersed in an awkward silence. Emi and Larissa seem to have gravitated towards each other, despite the language barrier. I suppose the fact that they’re the only girls in our motley group has something to do with their unlikely friendship. Despite the fact that Will barely speaks English, he’s already made quite a few jokes at Red Leader and Pau’s expense, which I happily add on to. For some reason, Thomas thinks that it’s a good idea to sit next to me, and I ignore both him and the flutter in my heart.

Prey.

I make sure to ignore him, and his face shifts slightly.

It makes me feel powerful.

I feel strong, and I can almost ignore the feeling in my chest.

“Hey, wouldn’t it be a good idea to introduce ourselves?” Chris gives us an innocent look. “I mean, I think I’ve figured out your names, but I know pretty much nothing about you! So, what if we go around and say why we’re in this army, a little about ourselves, you know.”

“Okay. I’m Larissa.” Larissa shrugs. “I’m from the US, I’m here because why not, and the meaning of life is centered around other people’s pain.”

“Word,” I say, sighing slightly when I realize that now everyone wants me to go. “I’m Tord, Norwegian, we got picked up on the streets and the soldiers decided that we’d make a good addition to the army.” There’s a pause. “Uh, and I like guns. And hentai.”

There’s a snort from someone.

“Too much information, commie.” Thomas gives me an indecipherable look.

“Who’s ‘we’? You said that ‘we got picked up on the streets’,” Asks Larissa, frowning.

“Commie and I.”

“Oh? You know him?” Now she looks curious. “How?”

“Uh.”

“It’s a long story,” I interject, not wanting this to be the center of the conversation.

“C’mon, you gotta tell us!” Larissa gives us a pleading look.

I shake my head, saying ‘no way’ just as Thomas sputters out ‘he’s my boyfriend’.

Wait.

What?

“OHMYGOSHYES!” Squeals Larissa, jumping up, having changed into a rabid fangirl. “Uh, I mean, that’s great. I won’t judge. Yeah.” She sits down awkwardly.

“JEHOVAH, WHAT THE -” I stand up, slamming my fist on the table, leaving a good sized dent. I don’t really think about that, though. A red tint seems to have filled my vision, and my face is hot. Thomas gives me a nervous, blushing glance, and I sit down. “Jesus Christ. Just...what? Where did you…?” I don’t even try to for a coherent sentence, putting my head in my hands.

“What? Was I not supposed to tell anyone?” I look up just in time to see Thomas giving me a shit-eating grin, his blush and nervous face all but gone, and I almost choke. 

The little…

He set it up.

His revenge for our fight earlier.

“Well!” Chris coughs, giving me a glare. What? “I’m Chris. I’m English, my parents thought it would be a good idea for me to join the Reds, and...Red Leader’s pretty cool, I guess. He knows his stuff.” Again, he glares at me. It’s a bit surprising; if I hadn’t seen his future self I wouldn’t think that he was capable of glaring.

“M’Sam. English. Uh, I dunno why I joined. That’s it.” Sam talks so quietly I can hardly hear him, let alone understand him. 

“Ich bin Emi. Ja. Das ist alles.” Emi shifts in her chair, looking quite uncomfortable from the questioning looks.

“I’m Tom. I’m British, and I’m here because commie dragged me here. Harpoons are cool, I play bass, and there isn’t enough alcohol in this place. If you want to know more about me, you’ll have to find it out some other way. Preferably when I’m shitfaced.” 

I almost snort. Thomas’ introduction is just so...Thomas. Then I remember the blow to my reputation he just caused me - me? Dating Thomas? As if - and I wipe any thoughts that don’t involve hating him from my mind.

“I am William. Call me Will. I am Norwegian…” Will trails off, struggling for words. “I like...humor? Ja, I like humor and jokes. And running.” His face lights up slightly. “I run friidrett.”

“Track, and field,” I jump in, taking pity on him.

I kick myself internally. In the Army, there’s no room for taking pity.

“Ja, thank you. Uh, that is all.”

“Okay. Cool. Introductions are over. Now can we go up and get our lunch before we have to go back to the training room?” My voice is snappy from my irritation with myself.

There’s a flurry of movement as the seven of us practically sprint down the lunch line, choke down our food as fast as possible, and move our asses down to the training room where Pau, Red Leader, and Pat are waiting impatiently. 

“Thank you ever so much for doing us the courtesy of showing up.” Red Leader glares. “Now that you’re actually here, I’d like you all to meet Commander Pat of the Red Army.” He makes a dramatic motion towards Pat, who nods.

“Don’t be afraid. This is a ritual exercize new recruits must complete regularly.” Pat looks...incredibly professional. It’s disorienting. 

Then I focus on his words.

Ritual for newbies don’t be afraid I know I’ve done it it hurts screaming hole in her chest pain in my heart tears PREY-

I know what this is.

I had to do it.

It ripped me apart.

I can do it now, of course. The others, though…

I don’t know if the others will survive it,

Literally.

His broken body on the pavement noose around her neck me pulling the trigger bang blood-

I shake my head.

“If you fail to complete this task, your punishment will be...severe.” Pat smiles wickedly.

Growling cages dark alone can’t breath screaming tang of blood not mine-

Red Leader claps his hands, and Pau and Pat move to the side. “Choose a weapon of your choice. One you know how to use.” He waves an arm at the wall covered with weapons. Guns, knives, bombs, you name it.

Thomas shakes his head and pulls a harpoon out of nowhere. Because the hammerspace is a thing now, I guess. I don’t think about it too much, though, slipping a silver pistol off of the rack. Looking around most of the others have rifles, though Larissa has a large machete, and Sam has gained possession of a pistol not unlike mine, though it’s a bit smaller.

“Line up,” Barks Pau, waving us all back over. We all stand rather awkwardly, trying not to blow anyone else’s head off. 

Then four Red soldiers usher them in. 

They have sacks over their heads so we can’t see their faces, and their hands are tied behind their backs. They’re sent to the other side of the room.

“Ya job is very simple. Ya will each be assigned someone. None of ‘em are innocent. They’re all soldiers from the other side. Now, ya only need to do one thing.” Pau nods at Red Leader.

I know what Red Leader is going to say before he says it.

“You need to kill them.”

I look around, keeping my face stoic. Thomas shrugs slightly. Will gasps and covers his mouth, and Sam looks like he’s going to be sick. 

Prey.

‘Now, who’d like to go first?” Red Leader looks each of us over with a bored eye. Everyone’s silent. Even Emi, who barely speaks English, is able to get the gist of what’s going on.

No one is going to volunteer.

This is my chance.

Redemption in his eyes.

A chance not to be prey.

To be strong.

I step up, careful not to grip the pistol too tightly with my red arm. Red Leader widens his eyes slightly, and I can tell he’s a bit surprised.

It makes me smile.

I should know what’s going to happen, now that I think of it. Looking back, I can remember who shoots and who doesn’t.

I remember that I was surprised when Chris had pulled the trigger.

I wipe these thoughts from my mind, pushing Pau away when he tries to take the bag off of my victim's head.

I’ll do it myself.

She has brown eyes, dark blonde shoulder-length hair, and tanned skin.

No mercy.

I lift the gun to her forehead, and she pleads out a “Nei,” but it’s too late for her.

“Any time now,” Drawls out Red Leader.

Don’t be prey.

The first time I did this, I closed my eyes when I pulled the trigger.

This time, when I pull the trigger, I don’t cry. I don’t look away. Blood splatters over my face and Red Army uniform. I don’t care.

I walk back to the others, ignoring the way her body slumps to the ground. 

I ignore their stares.

I ignore the sob coming from one of the prisoners.

I walk ever so calmly to the others, with my head held high.

I don’t pay attention to the others, barely registering Thomas spear through some guy with a weird hairdo.

It’s not until the thing’s over that I realize that I’ve been gripping the pistol so tightly there are finger indents all over it.


	19. All the types of pain

Someone’s sobbing.

I shouldn’t be surprised; there’s always a certain level of trauma after one of the Red Army’s tests.

I shouldn’t be surprised, after all I did the same.

And yet the sound grates on my nerves. This is what I was trained all of my life not to do, to punish, to ignore.

I sigh, sitting up, leaning slightly from the robot arm. “Will you be quiet? I’m trying to sleep.”

“Hey, Tord?” A figure I recognize as Sam also sits up. 

“First of all, is everyone awake? It’s like one o’clock,” Thomas nestles deeper under the covers with a groan.

“Here.”

“Ja.”

“Ich,”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my God, really?” Thomas looks at me, blinking those voids of his.

“Yeah, so Tord. Question.” Sam’s voice is slightly choked, and I wonder if he was the one crying.

“Go ahead.”

“How are you so...calm? I mean, you just killed her without thinking about it.”

“I’ve killed lots of people. You’ll have to elaborate.” For a moment, I’m taken back - or forward, I guess - to my encounter with Eduardo where I had said the same thing.

“Not funny. How - or, no, better question, why?”

“I’ve had...experience.” I choose my words carefully, putting twinges of guilt and worry into my voice. “I actually used to be in the Army.”

“Gjorde du permisjon?” Will sounds curious, although defeated from earlier. Prey.

“Hah. Nei, jeg fikk lov til å forlate. Virkelig, de sparket meg ute,” I reply, laughing a bit. “Now,” I add, addressing everyone, “We should probably go to sleep now. We do a bunch of conditioning tomorrow.”

“How do you know that?” Sam speaks out again. Usually he’s quiet; interesting.

Then his words register.

Shit. I had forgotten to be careful with what I said. Of course I know the training schedule, but no one else would. “Lucky guess, I suppose,” I say absentmindedly. 

“Yes. Lucky guess.” Sam lays down, pulling the blankets around him. 

“G’night, everyone,” I say sleepily, 

“Good night, Tord.”

And as I drift off to sleep, I can’t help but wonder why Thomas’ voice is so...gentle.

——

Waking up was much less dramatic than it had been yesterday.

No punches were thrown, no tears were shed, and I actually make it through breakfast without any shouting. 

It’s a miracle.

I won’t deny that every encounter with the other cadets had been...strange. It feels as though they’re always looking at me, always whispering. Thomas keeps smoothly bumping up against me to the point that I want to punch him.

The fourth time his shoulders casually brush against mine I grab his arm with my left hand and drag him into the deserted hallway, ignoring the curious stares from my table.

“Get off!” Thomas shakes his arm from my grasp and gives me what I assume is a glare. I ignore it.

“Thomas, what are you doing?” I keep my voice level.

“I could ask you the same thing!” Thomas is practically shouting, and I don’t miss the way his eyes flash a strange purple.

“Hey, you started it.”

“How?” 

“In what universe am I dating you?” Try as I might, I can’t keep the scorn from my voice. 

“Oh, that’s what you’re mad about?” Thomas blinks. ‘That’s really fucking stupid.”

I stare at him.

Really fucking stupid.

Is that what he thinks of me?

That hurts more than I care to admit.

It hurts, so I shake my head, wiping anything that isn’t disgust off of my face. “You’re really fucking stupid.”

Wow, Tord, what an incredible comeback. 

“I know.” Thomas gives me a strange look that’s almost a smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes. Or...whatever they’re called. “Trust me, commie, I know. Now, I have to eat breakfast, so goodbye.”

And then he smiles.

“Thanks for talking with me, Tord.”

And I shiver from the way my name slides off his lips, and there’s that flutter in my chest, and I clamp it down. I slide a ‘superior’ look on my face, and scoff.

“Thomas, for your safety, I’d advise not spreading any more tasteless rumors about...us. That is a threat that I’m sure you realize I’d carry out in a heartbeat.”

He sighs,

And turns away,

And leaves.

And it isn’t until he’s out of sight that I realize how sad the look he gave me when he left was. 

And for the first time in - I don’t know how long -, the flutter in my chest turns into sharp, stabbing pain.

It’s a feeling I haven’t felt since I killed the first of many.

Guilt.

——

I had been correct in my assumption that we’d be doing insane amounts of conditioning today. 

After exactly twelve laps around the track, Thomas had started vomiting. At twenty-one, Larissa had fainted, and Will and I were the only people still running. At twenty-six, my legs had given out and I’d collapsed, and Will didn’t make it another two laps before he had staggered onto the bench were we were all gulping down water. 

“That? That was terrible.” Pau’s voice is sharp, radiating disappointment. Yeah, I’d heard Pau like this, but being on the other side of his frustration is...strange. It sent spirals of what I could only describe as ‘wrongness’ through the air.

I have to suppress a shiver, not wanting to be seen as prey. Honestly? Pau can be...terrifying. 

As soon as I think that I shove the mere notion to the back of my mind. I am Red Leader. I’m more powerful than anyone else here. I do not feel fear, let alone fear caused by my lessers.

I don’t realize that my head is high and my eyes are partially closed and I look as disdainful as I can until Pau says, quite loudly, “Tord. Up here.” He motions toward his side, and I wipe the look off of my face and replace it with ‘apprehension’, rounding my shoulders slightly as I walk up to him in order to convey the idea that I’m nervous.

Step.

Step.

Step.

My boots echo on the floor as I walk over to Pau, the other recruits’ stares almost burning holes in the back of my uniform. When I finally reach him, I feel as though I’ve walked a couple miles naked with my entire army watching. It’s an unsettling feeling that I can’t shake, despite my best efforts.

“Yes, sir?” I put a tiny tremble into my voice - not enough to punish me, but enough so they don’t suspect who I am.

“Ya know, ya really are interesting.” Pau paces. His voice sounds friendly, but I know him well enough to tell that he’s mad from the way he stands. “Sometimes ya act scared. But ya aren’t, are ya.” It isn’t a question. “Ya blew ‘er brains out without thinking twice. That’s gotta be some sorta record.” Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Will’s flinch. “Ya can shoot, ya can run, ya can fight - who are ya?”

“Tord.”

Pau doesn’t look amused. “Y’all got free time; don’t blow anything up.” He says, addressing the others. “Tord, walk with me.” He starts off, not waiting to see if I follow.

I hurry to catch up, a bit disoriented from the way he...babies me. It takes a minute; I’m still a quite a bit breathless from our running earlier, yet I’m rather disappointed at myself for lagging behind.

Always disappointed.

“Well, Tord,” Says Pau, and I jump. “Ya really are a mystery.” Almost all of the superior tinge has leaked from his voice, leaving behind the familiar Pau I know. “Red really hates ya. I don’ think you’re his biggest fan either.” 

I blink.

Obviously, I had known that Red Leader hates me, but hearing it from one of his best friends sends a pulse of what I can only describe as ‘triumph’ through me, as well as some sort of emotion that makes my stomach turn over.

Prey.

“Yeah, the feeling is mutual.” Pau gives me a strange look, and I realize that I made no effort to put any of the fear I had earlier in my voice, and my face is entirely blank. I quickly slap a ‘worried’ look onto my face, glancing down.

“So, as I was saying, who are you?” He repeats, still sounding rather confused.

“I’m Tord,” I repeat, pretending to be confused.

And yet I think I know what he means.

It terrifies me.

“I know. You said that. But no one comes into the Army with no formal training and has the skills you do. So who are you?”

Oh. This is where it gets interesting. 

It gets interesting because I’m a wanted criminal.

I’m Tord.

I’m a Lab Four techie.

I’m a hacker.

I’m a recruit.

I’m a friend.

I’m an ex-British soldier.

I’m apparently a boyfriend.

So I say the thing that holds the most - and somehow the least - truth.

“I’m Red Leader.”

And I say this in only the way that I - Red Leader, really - can say it; haughty, cold, a hunter in a world of prey.

And Pau looks me up  
And down  
And he shakes his head

And he grabs my real arm, and hauls me down the hall.

I could snap his wrist. I could kill him. But I don’t.

I let him pull me through the base, until he stops at an all-too familiar spot.

And now I start to struggle.

Because this is my office.

And Pau has murder in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure when I’m gonna be able to update again, due to my overprotective parents.


	20. Suffer and burn

“Hold still, damnit!” Pau glares at me, trying to hold me down while opening my office door. He’s failing rather miserably. “Just - stop!” He hisses, eyes narrowing. 

And then there’s me.

I’m not scared. I’m never scared. But I’d certainly admit that I am rather apprehensive. It wouldn’t be good if Red Leader were to kill his future self -

Ican’tdienonono-

So I twist out of his grip, my metal arm clanking against the wall with a ringing crash.

And it’s so so so loud.

And Pau and I freeze

And the - my - office door opens, and he steps out, looking annoyed.

‘He’ being Red Leader himself.

“Soldaten, hold kjeft! Jeg er prøver til -” He pauses, seeing us, and I can see that he’s making a conscious effort not to let any confusion show on his face. “Oh. What are you doing?” His voice is flat, and yet it’s just barely sharp enough for me to realize how irritated he is.

“Sorry, boss.” Pau gives me an annoyed look, his eyes narrowed. “It’s just that -”

Red Leader cuts him off. “No, I don’t want to hear it. Pau, go deal with the recruits. You, come with me,” He says, walking into his - my - office. I follow him, closing the door and leaning against the wall, careful not to look too bored.

“So, what can I help you with?” I start the conversation, making no attempt to put any emotions in my voice. Robotic is the best way to deal with Red Leader, after all. 

“I don’t need your help with anything.” His nostrils flare. He’s taken a hit to his pride, and I smirk.

“Then why am I in here?”

Red slaps me across the face.

White pain explodes behind my eyes, and I can taste blood - but despite all this, I don’t drop my smile. I’ve scored points against him, and that’s quite an accomplishment.

And yet, I’m not exactly going to let him get away with hitting me.

I grab his arm, dodging as he tries to knee me, quickly falling into a familiar pattern of punch, dodge, kick, dodge, block, punch, block. Sure, Red Leader’s good, but with my robot arm and extra skills, I flip him around, and land a few good hits on his already bruised face. Frankly, he looks shocked, and that spurs me on even further.

Red Leader manages to get in a few good punches, I won’t deny it, but I soon have him pinned with my robot arm around his neck.

Should I kill him?

Would that kill me?

Is there a point to killing him?

I pause, thinking. Surely Red Leader could still be useful, and besides, I don’t know if that would kill me. Logically, I should keep him alive.

Besides, killing him feels -

It feels wrong.

I suppose it has something to do with the way that he’s really me, but despite my efforts, I just can’t kill him.

As in, when I try to snap his neck, nothing happens.

I mutter a curse, sitting on top of him, freeing my hands. Well, the hell do I do now? If I leave, Red will most likely order my execution. If I don’t, someone will come in here eventually, and I’ll be killed anyways.

And then even that choice is ripped from me.

Red Leader’s hand has made it’s way to the small button-like machine sitting on the ground. Before I can stop him, he presses the button.

And then the walls glow red.

I know that all throughout the base, alarms are going off. The button was created by the former Red Leader - the paranoid little creep. The idea is that if you press it, it alerts the entire base to the presence of an assassin. I, personally, had never used it, because if you couldn’t deal with some hired killer you weren’t fit to be Red Leader anyways. 

And yet, Red Leader is - was - me. He didn’t like using that gadget any more than I did. He must have really thought of me as a threat.

That thought sends a sort of happiness bubbling up in my stomach. 

And then that ‘bubble’ bursts in a matter of seconds as the door is virtually blown up, with over a dozen troops flooding into the room.

And they’re led by Pau.

Because of course they are.

“Put your hands up!”

I roll my eyes slightly, standing up. “Jesus, okay. I wasn’t going to kill him anyways.”

“Sure,” Mutters Red Leader, picking himself off of the ground and rubbing at his neck. “Whatever you say.”

“Hey, it’s Tord!” Pau jumps slightly, his eyes widening as he sees me, ignoring Red Leader as he looks me up and down. “What the - oh. It’s ya. Of course it’s ya.”

“He just tried to kill me, will you get him out of my office?” Red Leader narrows his eyes. 

“I didn’t know I was suicidal,” I snap, about two seconds away from snapping his neck. That probably wouldn’t be very convincing for my whole ‘I’m innocent’ story.

“Oh, God, not this again, will ya shut up, Tord...oh…” Pau trails off. “Tord...isn’t that…” He glances between Red Leader and I, before glaring. “I must say, whatever ya name is, you’re a good liar. Ya almost had me fooled.”

“What the actual and unholy fuck are you guys talking about?” Red Leader looks as confused as I’ve ever seen him, although I can tell that he’s trying his hardest to keep his face under control. Prey.

“He keeps saying he’s ya.”

“Ah. Well, why don’t we check his ID number? You can’t keep calling him ‘he’ forever.” Red shrugs, his face finally blank, although I can tell he’s pissed from the idea of someone impersonating him.

“Yeah, okay.” Pau goes for my arm, and I don’t struggle. Mostly because of the gun pressing into my back. I can’t do anything.

Helpless.

Alone can’t do anything help help helphelphelphelp - 

“Wait, were ya ever branded? Ya started beating up Thomas when we were dealing with that.” Pau pauses, and I let out a breath, but then he sighs and lifts up the sleeve - 

“Holy SHIT.”

“What?” Red actually sounds curious now.

“Holy - Jesus - ” Pau looks white as a sheet. I know why.

The neat black numbers marching up my arm:

027063081

And the name written underneath.

Tord Larsin

“See?” My voice is blank, and I draw myself up. “I told you.” Look into Pau’s eyes. “You are all worthless. You can’t even tell who your Leader is.”

“Wha - but - how…”

“Oh my God, will someone tell me what’s going on?” In a millisecond, Red has gone from confused to irked.

“Thank you all so much for your time. I’ll be leaving you now. Have a nice three years.” I stride out, slamming the door behind me, almost hitting a gaping Pau in the face.

The moment I’m out of sight I’m running, though. To my displeasure, I’ve only gone a few paces before my legs start burning and my breath comes short and shallow; though in my defense I suppose that the running earlier and my fight with Red Leader had certainly taken its toll on me. 

Either way, the gym where Thomas had last been isn’t too far away. I’m not entirely sure why I’m taking Thomas with me. Honestly I should just leave him to rot, but even thinking that makes me stumble a step as nausea rushes through me.

“Thomas!” I burst into the training room, pausing to put my hands on my knees so I can take some deep breaths. “Thomas, we have to go - don’t ask questions, follow me, and shut up.”

Thomas opens his mouth, but I shake my head, walking back out on unsteady legs. To my relief, he follows me without complaining. I take one last breath, trying to steady myself, before jogging away from the others, who all seem quite confused.

When we’re a good distance away from the other recruits, I slow down so we’re walking briskly. “We’ve been discovered. I know someone who can get us back to our time. We’ll call off this mission, and I’ll have to live with...this.” I wave my hand over my body. There’s a sharp feeling in my chest as I really think about my desicion.

The mission was - is - a failure. 

I’m a failure.

Not only did the mission to retrieve the Robot fail, I can’t even clean the pieces up. 

Idiot.

“Really?” Thomas raises his eyebrows. “You’re a lot of things, Tord, but you don’t give up.” 

That hurts.

I don’t want to give up, but as Red Leader - idon’twannabeRedhe’sfrightiningnononno - I’ve learned that sometimes you have to retreat. 

“I’m not giving up. We’ll find another solution, but we have to go.” I speed up again, only stopping minutes later at a familiar door. 

Steel doors, operated by a button.

This time when I slam the button down, I’m careful not to break it.

The door slide open - 

Kah-runch-sssssssss…

-and I shiver at the cool air wafting out from the room. 

“Come on, Thomas.”

“I...I…”

I look at him. “What?”

“I can’t…”

His eyes are white, his face pale, his brows furrowed.

I’ve never seen Thomas like this, and it’s so unsettling I can’t even make myself think ‘prey’. That ache in my chest is back, and I can’t drown it.

So I mask it.

“God, Thomas, come on. We don’t have all day.” I grab his arm with my real hand, pulling him through the door. 

Past the cages

And the creatures

And to cage #140

“Daz?”

I look at Thomas, blinking. “‘Daz’? The hell do you mean, ‘Daz’?”

“He means ‘Daz’, as in ‘Dazeem’. That is my name, no? Are you so incapable of understanding the simple concept of a nickname?” Dazeem’s voice is smooth as silk, with a razor’s edge, and I snarl, but his attention is on Thomas. “Well, if it isn’t Thirty-Four! I’d like to be able to say you grew, but you’re significantly shorter.”

“Well, One-Forty, you haven’t changed a bit. Still an dick, apparently.”

“Thomas, we didn’t come here to talk about the weather.” Turn to Dazeem. Ignore Thomas. “You can take us back to our time.” A statement.

“That I can, for a price!” Dazeem grins. “What will it be this time? Your soul, perhaps?”

No, not my soul not mine nor Thomas’ no Tom’s not his soul - 

Shake my head, glaring at Dazeem. “I’d free you, but I might need you later -”

“You want my soul? Take it.”

Stare at Thomas.

“Ha! I’d love to, you know that. Sadly, half-breeds don’t have real souls. Can’t take yours.” Dazeem grins, pointed teeth gleaming in the dim light.

What?

I open my mouth, but footsteps distract me.

I whirl around, to see him striding towards us, power radiating off of his every move. Red Leader draws closer.

“Ugh, you again.” Thomas shifts, the color slowly returning to his face. “Tord, I thought you said you lost him?”

“I abandoned him in our office with a bloody nose,” I correct, shrugging, though I quickly turn my attention to the matter at hand.

“Sup, Red?” Dazeem leans against the wall, snapping his fingers and conjuring a penknife, and proceeding to use said penknife to clean under his nails. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Red Leader brushes off Dazeem’s comment, his attention on Thomas and I. “Well, well, well, Tord.” He practically spits my - our - name. “You know, Pau told me some interesting things about you. I thought I’d get your...commentary on the situation.” He’s only a few meters away from me now. “So, what the hell am I doing traveling with Thomas?”

I instantly decide to just call Thomas ‘Tom’, if only to piss Red Leader off. “Well, I’ve come to warn you not to raid that Russian base. You fail. Oh, and you want to remember this.” I take a breath. “Tom shoots you down. The mission for the robot fails. Actually be patient, and don’t let Tom goad you into taking the robot before you install those last items on it.”

There’s a pregnant pause.

“You know, I didn’t believe Pau, but...I guess he was right.” Red smiles coldly. “Just know one thing - when you get to the future, I will never, ever be you. You’re weak. Stupid. You got shot down by Jehovah. You - we - should have died. I will never, ever be you.”

It’s like a bullet.

I can’t breath.

My past self...he...I...we think I’m weak.

I will never, ever be you.

He hates me.

How could he hate me? He’s me?

“Good.”

I turn to look at Thomas - Tom - . He looks absolutely livid, his eyes the same faint purple they were when I confronted him in the hall that time. 

“I hope you never become him, because he isn’t you. You’re a monster -” He winces, frowning. “I mean, a horrible person.”

And Red Leader’s smile widens. “I know.”

“Oh my God, you little dramatic sissies.” I whirl to look at Dazeem, who’s put the knife away. “I can’t believe you. Tord, Thirty-Four, just...shut up and I’ll send you back. Just stop complaining, for God’s sake.”

Dazeem snaps his fingers  
And the world dissolves  
And Tom shouts something  
And there’s a gunshot  
And everything   
Goes  
Black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...uh, I don’t really know how to say this...
> 
> But this book is almost over.
> 
> ALMOST.
> 
> Just a few more chapters, guys!
> 
> But...how many of you noticed that this book is now in a series? When I finish this book, I /will/ make the next book.
> 
> However, this book isn’t over yet! All I’m going to say is...shit ‘bout to go down. ;)
> 
> (Also, Rosie, I know I’ve failed you. I’m actually completing something. I am eternally sorry and I beg for your forgiveness. Also my email is down so uhhh I’m activating my old one give me time)


End file.
